


A Solution More Beautiful

by Darsynia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, GoF to HBP at least, Humor, Mild Use of Profanity, Parallel Universes, Pining, Remus/Elodie end game even though that's a spoiler, Romance, Slow Burn, This is going to be really long, author really loves writing dialogue, exploration of magical themes, massive amounts of character study, set directly after Prisoner of Azkaban
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 298,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darsynia/pseuds/Darsynia
Summary: Elodie Merriman couldn't accept that her favorite character didn't survive the books. She went to sleep in her bed in America in 2009 and woke up in a boarding house in the UK in 1994, having switched places with her magical self in another universe. Magical Elodie had a wand, a career, and a friend named Albus Dumbledore who had saved her from her jerk mentor--and now, Muggle Elodie had taken her place, magical ability and all.Step One: learn more magic,fast. Step Two: don't screw up the Wolfsbane her predecessor had started. Step Three: try not to forget how things are supposed to go, once you actually meet the real life Remus Lupin. And Step Four: nothing ever,evergoes to plan when Sirius Black is involved.NOTE: 'slower' (not every three days) posting schedule due to my writing an original novel at the same time. NOT ABANDONED <3





	1. The Wrong Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: On the wiki and other places, the term 'Potions Master' is considered an honorary title bestowed simply by virtue of being the Potions professor at Hogwarts. Fanon has long-established (mostly in Snape-centric stories) that the title is earned, usually by an apprenticeship over a few years, and certification tests afterwards. I'm using the latter definition.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie wakes up in another country, another continent, and another *universe* than the one she'd fallen asleep in.

Elodie shut her copy of  _ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _ with a snap and glared at it. No matter how many times she picked it up to finish the book, she just couldn’t make it past the part where her favorite character lay dead. Remus Lupin wasn’t given a valiant death scene, nor even a eulogy by another character. She knew the book held other frustrations—the section on her favorite fan fiction archive was full of stories tagged with ‘EWE,’ or ‘Epilogue, What Epilogue?’—but she hadn’t even made it that far. She had picked the book back up, time and again, expecting the distance of time to provide the perspective to handle that particular disappointment, but there was just no help for it. The hoped-for redemption of Remus from his sudden self-doubt and abandonment of his wife and child was not only missing, but it had never been attempted!

For one furious, incandescent moment, Elodie wished she had never read past book three. Sirius Black alive, Lupin no longer burdened with the false misery of Pettigrew’s innocence and Black’s guilt—Dumbledore alive and hope on the horizon. She’d gotten hooked by a friend’s insistence she read the series (“Honestly, Elodie, if you like reading Kirk/Bones from the reboot, you’ll LOVE Remus/Sirius!”), and the wealth of fanfiction had blown her away. She’d read epic time travel adventures pairing Hermione and Remus and post-war ficlets that hand-waved all the death and destruction and reunited as many Marauders as the author could manage. She had even tried some stories pairing Lupin with characters like Ginny or Luna, though she preferred him with Hermione. The silly thing was, Elodie had gone and gotten so thoroughly attached to Remus and Sirius in particular that no amount of fandom fixits felt like they were enough. 

She eyed the laptop beside her as she put the thick volume back down in its place of honor (or disgrace) on her bedside table. Did she want to read a quick one shot to make her feel better? Elodie shook her head. She was in a fanciful mood, and she was shit at using Google after midnight. There was no chance she’d find the right search terms to find the kind of fic she wanted to read. ‘Lost in Austen but in Harry Potter’ wasn’t likely to exist anyway, she knew, and even if it did, chances were high a story like that would be based on the Slytherins or the Golden Trio anyway, not Lupin. She considered rewatching the final episode of that miniseries. It was imaginative; basically fanfiction in its own right, as the main character from modern times steps into Pride and Prejudice and accidentally places herself at Fitzwilliam Darcy’s side, instead of Lizzie. Instead, Elodie decided to reread a favorite fanfiction from a completely different fandom, Stargate Atlantis. There, one of the main cast finds himself in the actual Atlantis, essentially an alternate universe where the events of the television series were actually real, as were the characters  _ and _ the technology. Elodie loved the story because it wasn’t just about the characters and their interactions, but also the way the main character experiences the differences between his universe and the one he finds himself in. After a couple of chapters, she felt more content, and she smiled as she closed her laptop and placed it on its shelf.

Elodie got up and prepared for bed, stopping at the window to close it, as the air outside had grown chilly. The night was clear, and the moon was barely a sliver in the sky. The stars shone bright without the moon’s glow to obscure them, and as she watched, a falling star streaked across the patch of sky right in front of her.

On a whim, Elodie Merriman made a wish.

888888888888

 

For 33 years, Elodie’s room had been the same, in layout, if not in decoration. That wasn’t as unusual as it could have been in some parts of the world, as her sleepy New England town was the sort of place where one could be born, grow up, and settle down as an adult all in the same house. The relevance of all of this was that, barring one particular semester at college (and her roommate had brought and used actual  _ curtains  _ that year), Elodie Merriman had never slept in a bedroom whose windows let the morning sun shine in onto the bed.

Until today.

The gentle heat on her face was what woke her up. Elodie opened her eyes and squinted, lifting a sleepy hand to block the unexpected light. Something was off, but she wasn’t awake enough to know what it was just yet. The blanket was right, the pillow was right, but the window—the window was wrong. The sun was shining through the top window pane, and as she sat up, Elodie saw that the lower two thirds were covered by a delicate lace panel curtain she’d never seen before in her life. Beside the window on either side were two powder blue parlor chairs that were also unfamiliar. Next to one of the chairs was a roll top desk, identical to the kind she’d always wanted, and atop it sat a picture frame she recognized. Elodie couldn’t make out the subject of the photograph, but what made her startled enough to stand up and rush over to it was the fact that the picture inside the frame was  _ moving. _

She’d had that particular frame since she was a teenager. It wasn’t any thicker than a regular picture frame, and she turned it over to check that some computer chip hadn’t been added to it to allow video functionality. It looked completely normal, with no wires or technology hidden in the smooth wooden backing. She turned it over, half expecting the image to be stationary, but sure enough, her eyes hadn’t been deceiving her: the image of her mother and a stranger were moving and interacting. 

“What the hell?!” Elodie blurted out. Her mother had died on July 27th, 2001, on a flight from Boston to Miami. Yet here she was, smiling, waving, and gesturing to the view behind her in that endearing way Elodie so loved about her. ‘Can you believe this?!’ she seemed to be asking, as always delighted by the beauty of touristy places, as if the postcards and snapshots of others could never do those places the justice they deserved until seen by her own eyes. 

Elodie stared, mesmerized by the ordinary everyday look of the woman who was clearly her mother, clearly alive and happy. 

There was a knock at the door, and Elodie set the frame down carefully in its place at the desk, and went over to open it.

“Good morning, Miss Elodie,” a young woman said, her English accent unmistakeable. “Owl post’s just come, and this one is for you.” She handed Elodie a roll of parchment and turned to leave. Unrolling the scroll seemed the most obvious thing to do, however strange her situation, and when Elodie saw the signature at the bottom, she burst into a loud peal of laughter that echoed down the hallway.

“Of course!” she said, holding up the curling paper in a jaunty salute to the woman who’d handed it over. “The signature says Albus Dumbledore. Who else would it be from?!”

“That’ll be the juice from last night,” the girl said, clearly unfazed. “It made Jenkins from down the hall go for a swim in the stream at 5:30 AM. I think I’ll pour out the rest of it. Can’t have any more guests going batty. I’ll bet you it’s cursed!” She turned back toward the nearby staircase and started down them, humming a tune as though nothing of consequence had happened at all.

Elodie couldn’t think of a response. The reality of what she was holding in her hands and what it had to  _ mean  _ came crashing over her, and she walked back into her room as if in a trance, her finger tracing across the signature almost reverently.

> Dear Elodie,
> 
>  
> 
> It appears that I was right about needing your brewing skills. Therefore, I have a few favors to ask, if you are amenable:
> 
>   1. Please ask Winnifred if there is lodging for a former Hogwarts staff member there, for a few months. I fear Professor Lupin will be rather forlorn at the loss of his position, however predictable it may have been. Hollyfield House is remote enough that he should be able to convalesce nicely.
>   2. If you have not yet begun the process of brewing Wolfsbane, please start it soon. Any ingredients you do not currently have access to will be provided for you.
> 

> 
>  
> 
> I have acquired a book for you about the Wolfsbane potion and other powerful and rare spells useful to a Potions Master. The book is only produced once a year, and many skilled witches and wizards vie for the few copies that are created. There are powerful forces that threaten the peace you have only so recently achieved. I will be honest with you: I feel I need your help. I hope this gift will reveal the level of trust and faith I have in you.
> 
> If you are interested in helping, please conjure and send back an imitation phoenix feather with the owl that will arrive with your book tomorrow. Your message should read, ‘Thank you for the use of this phoenix feather. My potion has been a great success.’ If you choose not to assist, I will not blame you. You remain a person I hold in high regard either way.
> 
> A simple touch of your wand to this message should activate the  _ Incendio _ it is cursed with.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, my dear.
> 
> Albus Dumbledore

  
  
  


Elodie supposed that taking a picture of the letter would defeat the purpose of the Mission Impossible style self-destruct that had been included in it (and her pathetic flip phone’s camera was broken again, and at the shop,  _ again _ ). At the same time, Elodie had a self-imposed rule to never leave something important to chance. Even if she only needed two things from the store, she always made a grocery list. If she gave a promise, she made a note of it right away. For this, she decided, she’d make a list of the tasks, and then write out a response to Dumbledore about the feather before his message was destroyed and took the exact wording with it.

Elodie was halfway across the room reaching out to open the desk in search of a pencil before the unreality of her actions caught up with her. She had always responded to stressful situations by micromanaging, but this was ridiculous! Elodie turned and sat on the edge of her (was it hers?) bed and looked at the scroll again. If it hadn’t been for that picture on the desk, she’d think her fangirl friend from work was up to a monumental prank. The picture of her mother was pretty compelling evidence to the contrary, though, and Elodie was reminded of a quote whose author had escaped her. Something about cutting edge technology being indistinguishable from magic?

She looked back down at the thick parchment paper in her lap, and once again felt completely overwhelmed by the task of making sense of everything. Micromanaging was a much needed lifeline, she decided. 

Elodie set the scroll down carefully on the bed and again moved toward her desk to search for writing supplies.

“This is crazy, you know that Mom?” she said, looking up and smiling at the framed image of her mother. “I mean, you used to make fun of me for talking to myself, and I never told you this, but after you died? I started talking to you, instead.” She found a pencil and a thick roll of paper that she stared at for a long while before ripping off a section to write on. “Now, I’m still talking to you, but it feels less like an excuse.” Elodie looked up at the smiling avatar of her mother, who was waving gaily at her. “You feel more real than anything else, right now.”

Her instinct was to find a flat surface to write on and settle back onto the bed, but she realized that was because she didn’t actually have a desk of her own, at home. The lap desk she’d purchased a few years back was so comfortable and the laptop she usually wrote emails on were both much more familiar, but of course, she was without both, here.

“All right, here’s the desk, where’s the desk  _ chair? _ ” she asked aloud. She turned around and scanned the room, finding the chair in front of a charming wardrobe she hadn’t noticed before. She walked over and stared at it for a long moment before narrowing her eyes and climbing up on it. Once elevated, it was a natural action to examine the decorative carved edge of the wardrobe.

There, sitting hidden in a wooden recess of the wardrobe’s domed top, lay a small book.

Elodie felt like she was truly and honestly a heroine in a storybook.

She reached out and took the book, and at her touch, the cover morphed into that of a diary. The change started in the top left corner and fluttered at an angle toward the lower right, each piece flipping over like dominos collapsing end to end. Elodie was startled, but forced herself not to drop it. The changing book tickled as it transformed underneath her hand, but it didn’t hurt her. She was glad of the solid weight of the wardrobe in front of her, and she steadied herself with a hand resting firmly against it as she held the magical object through its transformation.

Elodie took stock of her situation and remembered what her mother had always advised her when she was little. ‘Never combine tasks when you’re learning something new.’ As a toddler, this had meant not holding a banana  _ and _ trying to climb up onto a dining room chair at the same time. In Elementary school, it was learning to swim without stopping in the middle of the pool to put her hair into a tighter ponytail. As a teenager, she had rather disastrously had her first kiss while stopped at a red light, two days after trading in her learner’s permit for a shiny new driver’s license. Applying the concept to her current circumstances, Elodie knew that she shouldn’t try to climb down from the chair while holding a book that might change its shape and texture at any moment.

She tossed the book towards the center of the bed only a few feet away, and watched as the accordion-like transformation reversed itself as soon as it left her grasp. Elodie climbed down and grabbed the desk chair, dragging it easily over to the desk. Then, she reached out toward the book, pausing only slightly to remind herself to pay attention to how the change started. Would it feel like a transfer of energy from her body to the book? Or did it generate its own shimmer of magic by virtue of her touch? 

Elodie touched the tip of her forefinger to the center of the book.

This time the change pulsed out like a tsunami from the spot she touched, and it  _ was _ like a static charge had passed from her body into the object. Elodie bit her lip, excited about what that might mean for her here in a world of magic. She hadn’t missed that there were aspects in Dumbledore’s letter that would require her to be, quite frankly,  _ not _ a Muggle, but via her usual compartmentalization, she’d set that aside until it became relevant again. As she grasped the journal more firmly and sat down to read what was inside, Elodie realized exactly how relevant her personal relationship to magic really was.

 

> May 5, 1994
> 
>  
> 
> Finally settled in Hollyfield House. I think I’ll be eternally grateful to Albus for finding me a place where I feel like I am safe and can be independent! This time two months ago I never would have seen myself as a Potions Master, much less having earned the title  _ and _ gotten away from Jerk Francis. I think I was too afraid to write down my hopes when it came to this, but now I am confident that despite everything, I have come out the other side. So I’m going to say it!
> 
> I
> 
> AM
> 
> FREE.
> 
> Losing everything I own and everyone I was still friends with hurts worse than  _ Cruciatus _ , but I’m sure that was the point, for him. It will just have to be too damn bad for him that I plan to be happy from now on precisely  _ because _ that’s the opposite of what he wanted. If only he’d been less thorough, I might have been demoralized and depressed beyond redemption!

 

It was definitely her own handwriting. There was something utterly haunting about it, for all that the tone was joyful. Something awful had clearly happened, and in a perverse way, Elodie felt grateful that she didn’t have those memories. She looked down at the entry for May 5 and decided that, while she wasn’t going to read through the whole thing in one sitting, she needed to see the last entry, at least. Elodie flipped through, seeing words and phrases in passing: ‘relieved,’ ‘triumphant,’ and ‘full of misery.’ She had no idea what today’s date was, but when she found the final entry, she recognized that this iteration of herself was no better at staying on task when it came to writing daily in a diary.

 

> June 2, 1994
> 
> Lovely visit from Albus! He has told me there’s a curse on the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, and that as a result the wizard holding that professorship will lose his job by the end of the term this year. He confided in me that he has a fondness for the man, named Lupin, and that he has been watching over him in a way since he’d arrived, given the state of the curse’s prior, as he described them,  _ victims. _ He confided in me that Lupin is a werewolf, got bitten when he was a child, and that he thinks that is misfortune enough to keep the man safe from any further harm when the curse comes into play. 
> 
> I have to admit that hearing these secrets--they are  _ clearly _ secrets--from him about someone I don’t know felt wrong somehow, but I have always wanted to try Wolfsbane again. I told Albus I hoped that was what he was getting at, and he admitted as much. It takes some preparation and gathering, and but this is me declaring my intent of beginning the brewing as soon as possible. If I hurry, it should be ready for the next full moon, but aconite in particular is tricky to get.
> 
> Is it silly to be so excited about wanting to brew again?

 

“Mom,” Elodie said to the photograph nearby after sitting in silence for a long time, reading and re-reading the words in her own handwriting. “I think we’re witches. Like, real magic-using, wand-waving--” A realization hit as soon as she spoke the words ‘wand-waving.’ Elodie stood up in a movement so quick that the chair lurched sideways. She caught it, but only just. After making sure the chair was stable again, she rushed over to the bed, consumed with excitement and curiosity. Elodie was a creature of habit, and every night, she took off her watch and necklace, setting them in a shallow rectangular tray on her bedside table. If she was right, and this was her room, _her_ _wand_ should be there.

It was.

Elodie stood and just  _ stared. _

The wand fit perfectly in the tray. Elodie wondered if, somehow, she instinctively used that same tray in her own universe because it fit her wand inside it in  _ this _ one. She reached out and slid a finger along the carved, reddish wood. She wanted to pick it up and cast  _ Lumos. _ She wanted to conjure up the house she could see so clearly in her head but always, ever since she was very young, failed to draw to her own satisfaction. She wanted to figure out where in the United Kingdom she was so she could find the soonest train to London and go ask Ollivander what kind of core her wand had.

The wand was heavier and more limber than she expected when she picked it up; the tip wobbled, or perhaps more accurately quivered, when she gestured with it. There was something deeply comforting about holding it in her palm just so, and this faded when she swapped hands. It was, quite simply, Elodie Merriman’s wand.

She couldn’t remember if there was a special wand movement for Lumos, and decided that she would close her eyes and hope that, perhaps, the spell was so elementary and instinctual that she’d cast it via muscle memory, somehow. Elodie raised the wand, checking to see that the tip had no glow to it whatsoever before shutting her eyes and saying in a confident voice, “ _ Lumos! _ ”

She felt an honest to goodness trickle of power in her right arm as she waved a modest curlicue in the air. Elodie opened her eyes to be greeted by a glowing ball of light at the end of her wand.

“ _ Nox _ ,” she whispered, enchanted and terrified. The light winked out. “ _ Lumos! _ ” she said again. “ _ Nox! _ ”

“Okay. Time to get serious, here,” Elodie chastised herself in a loud voice. “Very serious!” The very next second, she’d curled over into a hysterically laughing ball on the bed, clutching her precious wand to her chest. If  _ Albus Dumbledore _ was sending her letters referencing  _ Remus Lupin _ , then  _ Sirius Black _ was also presumably a real flesh and blood person that also existed. “Whoooooo,” she breathed once she’d calmed down. “Getting that out was probably necessary.”

Elodie rolled over onto her back and held up her wand, admiring the way it seemed simultaneously ancient and stylish. It was time to take stock of what she planned to do with all of this new information. She wondered if there was a spell that would let her use her walls as a temporary chalkboard, allowing her to make notes but also erase them permanently. Hermione Granger would know, and she was almost assuredly  _ also _ a real person who was existing somewhere in the same country Elodie was in right now. She was also, if Magical Elodie could be trusted to make journal entries roughly every two to four days, probably in the midst of her end of year exams, at the beginning of June, 1994.

Elodie sat up.

_ 1994. _

Her father had died in 1993 of cancer, but in 1994, Laurel Merriman was alive. And in 1994, Elodie Merriman had been 21 years old. She let herself fall back onto the bed with a thump.

“I promise I am NOT complaining,” she said out loud, ostensibly to whatever instruments of fate that might think she was regretting the situation she had found herself in. “This is just very, very complicated.”

She decided to take each complication, large or small, at face value, one at a time.  _ Face value, _ she thought to herself,  _ is as good a place to start as any. _ Elodie looked around and didn’t see a mirror, but she hadn’t yet opened the wardrobe. She got up and walked over to it, hoping she’d find a mirror. It turned out she was right, there was a mirror on the inside of the door--and that mirror showed her an Elodie she recognized, not one she’d been prepared to cringe over. Middle 1990’s hair had been  _ something else _ .

“All right, Mom, looks like you are alive and I’m oddly grateful I’m not 21 years old,” Elodie said, unsure which revelation was the more earth-shattering. Losing her father at 20 had been incredibly difficult, and losing her mom just over 8 years later hadn’t been any easier. There wasn’t a week that went by that she hadn’t wished she could somehow inhabit a world where even one of her parents still existed, and now, miraculously, she did. There was just the small matter of the presumably thousands of miles of distance that separated them, instead of years.

She could feel the hysteria bubbling up inside her. There were actual people in this world who were actually depending on her to be able to do actual things, and even if she was going to wake up back home after a mere 24 hours, Elodie felt like she still needed to  _ try _ to do right by everyone. For all she knew, Magical Elodie had started the Wolfsbane and needed to stir it once a day.

That was something else. Right now,  _ she _ was Magical Elodie. What could she call her counterpart that didn’t come off as insane if she talked to herself out loud in mixed (as in not batshit insane time traveling universe hopping) company? 90’s Elodie was right out, because she hadn’t enjoyed being 90’s Elodie all that much even back when she actually  _ was _ 90’s Elodie. She thought about it as she walked back over to her desk to participate in the one activity that would help calm her nerves.

Listmaking.

 

To do:

  * Subtly figure out which person Winnifred is, ask if there’s any vacancy for a friend of Albus Dumbledore
  * Find the library, start with the Standard Book of Spells (thanks, Hermione!)
  * Find the maid I met and tell her I drank some of that cursed juice and can’t remember where I’d been planning to brew potions
  * Read all of the journal entries and learn more about M. Elodie 



Elodie paused and reached over to grab Dumbledore’s letter. She looked at it with new eyes, trying to learn something about the nature of their friendship in relation to the way M. Elodie had referred to him in her journal. After a quick read-through, Elodie grabbed her wand and stuck it in the back waistband of her pyjama pants, fearful of burning it to an unreadable crisp by accident. She added to her list of tasks, based on what he’d asked her to do.

  * Make a separate library list and add a potion book with Wolfsbane 
  * Make a list of needed ingredients for Wolfsbane to send back with Dumbledore’s owl tomorrow
  * Learn how to conjure a faux phoenix feather
  * Write out his letter, ‘Thank you for the use of this Phoenix feather. The potion was a great success!’ 



 

It was time to destroy the parchment. But, would  _ Incendio _ cause any damage to the room she was presumably renting? She should go outside, Elodie realized, but that meant it was time to get dressed, and was a 36 year old Elodie going to fit into anything Magical Elodie had in her wardrobe? Elodie looked down at her list, running her finger across the place she’d written ‘M. Elodie.’ She’d had a babysitter when she was in elementary school who used to call her ‘Mellie,’ which had stood for ‘Miss Ellie.’ The older Elodie had gotten, though, the more the nickname had felt like something she’d left behind as she’d grown up. Now, that felt like the perfect reason to use it for a younger version of herself.

“Well, Mellie,” Elodie said, trying the name on for size as she walked back over to the open wardrobe. “Let’s see if I can fit into  _ anything _ you’ve got in here.”

Mellie seemed to prefer long, flowy dresses, and while Elodie herself remembered that phase of her life mostly fondly, she didn’t want to think about the reasons she no longer liked them. As for how they looked on her, well, it didn’t hurt that she was taller than the average woman. That height of 5 feet, 8 inches was thankfully not enough to put her in the same realm of miserable shoe sizes that her mother, at 5’10”, had suffered.

There were three variously printed ankle-length dresses, two single colored ones (including a blindingly white dress that Elodie was dying to know whether Mellie had ever worn, because she herself had always feared the myriad embarrassing ways such a color could be ruined during a simple night’s outing), and no less than  _ six _ skirts. She stood there just staring at them for a very long time, wondering when any version of herself had gotten  _ trendy _ before feeling a sharp pang of guilt when she remembered a key piece of information about Mellie.

They were probably  _ all _ new, or within a month or two of being so. What little she’d already read from the journal ( _ Don’t even think about it _ , she told herself firmly,  _ you need to get dressed and destroy the parchment before you can read everything else! Priorities! _ ) had made it clear that she’d come to the UK with next to nothing. A woman who had spent a length of time trapped and miserable would probably want the least restrictive clothing she could wear, once she was free.

Elodie told herself rather firmly to  _ stop _ wasting time judging her younger self on something as ridiculous as amounts of skirts. She had things to do, and they felt much more important than the things she’d be worried about had she woken up at home in New England. She slid the skirt hangers aside and looked at the blouses, which were all beautiful. Mellie had good taste. To her immense relief, there were also a selection of pants and casual shirts, all of which had little embellishments or styling to them that made them stand out as the kinds of things a person might splurge on. She pulled out a pair of jeans that had embroidered flowers all along the left pantleg in her favorite colors, and a light linen top with lace accents. 

The drawers of the wardrobe were filled with equally delightful undergarments, and after she’d chosen her favorites of these, her hand came upon the hard outline of a book,  _ The Wise Witch’s Wardrobe Workbook _ . The back of the dustcover (and that was a fascinating development in and of itself, that magical books still had dustcovers) had a blurb about using magic to alter clothing to have the style and fit needed for the day, without permanently changing them from their original state. There was even a picture of a woman wearing a skirt with very similar embroidery to the jeans Elodie had just chosen, next to a picture of the same color slacks with identical stitching.

Elodie had sold her younger self short by a mile.

_ You have got to get over your hatred of skirts, _ she told herself.  _ It was ONE bike accident! _ Mellie herself probably had never ridden a bike, Elodie realized. She’d probably ridden a broom, something she was pretty sure didn’t have a ‘skirt hazard,’ unlike her own humiliating teenage trauma. Even if she had, Mellie probably wouldn’t have had to spend a week in St. Mungo’s with a dislocated shoulder and lacerations up one side of her body and down the other, either.

“That’s enough with the neurotic ancient history, thank YOU!” Elodie singsonged to herself. She held up Mellie’s clothes, flipped through the book she’d found, frowned, and turned back to the wardrobe, digging out a hastily folded shirt in a color she’d always hated. There was a strong sense of unreality in that moment: Mellie had used this same shirt to test the book, she would bet money on it. That was why it wasn’t hung up, and that was why it remained a color they both hated.

Twenty or so minutes later, once Elodie was dressed, she discovered another difference between their worlds. She’d picked up her wand after putting on the necklace she’d always worn (same style, same length), and found herself a bit lost when she realized she hadn’t seen a purse or any place to put the wand. Something like instinct told her that witches and wizards kept their wands close, like in a pocket, so she felt along the waistline of her jeans. There were the same pockets she’d expected to find, but there was also one at her side, on the right, deep enough for her wand to fit, but not at a position where her wand would be damaged if she sat down. 

Elodie turned around to survey the room. It looked more homey now than when she’d first awakened. She wondered if that was because she knew Mellie didn’t have much to decorate or personalize the space. She told herself it was time to leave, and that was when she felt a strong compulsion to walk over to the bedside table and open the drawer there. Inside was a change purse and a miniature sweater.

  
“I’m going to wait on casting  _ Engorgio _ until I know exactly what I’m doing,” Elodie said to herself firmly. “I’ll be back soon, Mom!” She waved at the picture of her mother on the desk, wondering if any other magical people behaved similarly. She hoped they did. It was comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from a quote by Richard Dawkins, "The solution to a puzzle is often more beautiful than the puzzle itself."
> 
> Okay, this is the story that has eaten my soul. The basic premise was, 'What if I could write what basically looks like a self-insert story (it's not, I suck at baking!), but it doesn't suck?' Then, I came up with a whole plotline, and I loved every bit of it, but at the same time, it's still... an OFC story, which I'm pretty sure is considered the bottom of the barrel of fanfiction in the first place. WHOOPS.
> 
> Massive thanks to my personal superhero brightestmoony, who has let me flail all over her about this for months on end.


	2. Self Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie goes to the library to look for books to help her learn all the magic she can. She also has a chat with someone who makes her feel less like a fake.

The library was easy to find, Elodie discovered. It was also within walking distance, which was a very great stroke of luck. The benefits of being able to Apparate, Floo, or fly somewhere on a broom meant that magical commerce was not bound to the same conventions as Muggle commerce. Given the importance of getting each one right in their own ways, she felt incredibly fortunate that there was a library nearby. 

She arrived just as it opened for the day, and as soon as she stepped inside, Elodie realized she didn’t know if she was even qualified or licensed to borrow anything. The source material was no help to her in this, as Hogwarts students were authorized to use that library by virtue of being students. Then there was the issue of not being a citizen--but here, she was even more in need of guidance, for surely the Ministry of Magic and whatever governing body existed in the United States had their own practices and regulations. Beyond that lay the possible power and influence of Albus Dumbledore, and how he may have used it to help Elodie herself. For all that his character came across as lackadaisical, she’d always felt that it was a facade to hide the level of power he truly held behind the guise of a gentle, talented wizard. This led her to conclude that there was a larger than fifty percent chance he’d pulled enough strings for her to have proper documentation.

Confidence was what she had to portray, Elodie told herself. She stopped near the door to look at what could best be termed as a display exhibit, and an unusual one at that. It was a beehive, contained in glass, with the main body of the hive nestled against the corner by the library door, so that patrons could see inside. The bees’ entrance was aimed in the direction of a flowerbed, with a glass tunnel giving them a path to and from the outside world. There wasn’t anything innately magical about it, but it felt like something Muggles would struggle to imagine, much less enact. 

The change purse she’d brought from the boarding house was helpful to fidget with, but she hadn’t looked inside yet. Elodie pulled apart the magnetic clasp and peered in. There were coins, more than she would have expected, given how much it weighed. There was also a rectangular card, and when she pulled it out, she saw that it listed her name (Elodie Merriman, that was a relief), age (36--which was accurate, but still a shock. Perhaps it could magically discern age?), blood status (half-blood, something Elodie took as a confirmation of her hope that her mother was indeed magical in this universe), and a few titles that read as gibberish to her, along with others that looked familiar.

All in a rush, it became clear to her. These were things that described her, things she herself had chosen, she was sure of it! ‘Potions Master’ made sense (and was gratifying), but ‘Pukwudgie,’ was a complete mystery. Elodie decided she would figure out what the rest were in time, but for now, she needed to gather up some books to make up for seven lost years of magical education.

Reminding herself of the need for confidence, Elodie took stock of the library, seeing that the sections were were easy to follow, with Spells and Enchantments, Potions and Recipes, and Magical Creatures being three of the many categories. She made a beeline for the elementary spellbooks at the very front, no doubt meant for students who had mislaid theirs or wanted to read ahead a few years. She picked up the  _ Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 _ , as well as  _ Grade 2 _ . Then she made her way to the brewing books. On the way, she saw a shelf designed to catch readers’ eyes. Themed books of all kinds, including  _ Vampires and Spells to Repel _ ,  _ Sea Creatures’ Best Features _ ( _ Eating, Brewing, and Canoodling) _ , and  _ France’s Best Fiends and Friends: a Guidebook to Tell the Difference _ . The one her eyes lit on, however, looked like it was exactly what she wanted.  _ Wolf’s Bane: Dismantling the Shame of Lycanthropy _ . Elodie grabbed it and flipped through, seeing that there was a section at the back with recipes and potions; all of them seemed beneficial.

“That book’s got dangerous ideas in there,” a silver-haired wizard said, pausing beside her. He lifted a hand from the cart of library books in front of him to point at the werewolf book. “You want it? You can keep it. The publisher sent it without asking, and no one’s even sneezed it its direction for over a year.” He shook his head at her, making it clear that, despite the gift, he disapproved of her interest. “No charge.”

“Thank you,” Elodie said, startled. Then, on a whim, she added, “I wouldn’t want to take it if that would damage my reputation with the librarian, though. I do find the subject fascinating, but it’s not the  _ only _ subject I’m interested in.”

The wide, pleased grin on the man’s face told Elodie she’d said exactly the right thing.

“No concern there, child,” he reassured her, reaching out to pat her hand. “I’d just as soon forget the thing ever existed in the first place.” As he walked away, pushing the cart of returned books toward the next set of shelves, Elodie wondered if he planned to do just that. It was possible in this world, after all.

She wanted to get back to the boarding house as soon as she could, to pore over her new book (not the first one in her meager belongings, however. Mellie’s  _ Wise Witch _ book held that distinction). The concept of hurrying reminded her of the other subject she wanted to study, and Elodie rushed to get a book on magical transportation. She’d initially planned to get one solely on Apparition, but realized that she’d seen a fireplace in the foyer of the boarding house as she’d left. Both methods were deeply frightening to her, despite the handful of spells she’d successfully attempted, but she knew that knowing more about something could ease fear. 

The walk home was pleasant, as the lane was shaded by many trees whose branches intertwined above the pebbled path. Elodie stuck three books under her arm and held the fourth one open in front of her, reading. Then, with a giggle she was sure even Mellie hadn’t uttered in nearly a decade, Elodie snatched her wand from its side pocket and cast  _ Wingardium Leviosa. _ With her wand hand held just so, she was able to walk along, holding the spellbook and turning pages, the other three library books floating along beside her.

“Thank you, Hermione Granger, for your primer on pronunciation,” Elodie said aloud. “I think even if I woke up at home tomorrow, I’d have had the most fun I could ever have imagined in a single day,” she added, nodding to a tiny brown bird perched a few feet away.

The rest of the day’s plans went just as swimmingly. Winnifred was at lunch, and Elodie was able to confirm that there would be room for a Mr. R. J. Lupin to arrive within the month and stay for several. She gave a glowing recommendation of the man without even thinking, blushing deeply and confessing to the older woman that most of what she knew of Lupin was second-hand. She encouraged Winnifred to contact Albus Dumbledore if she needed a reference, but was met with a shake of the head and a kindly smile.

“I know what it’s like to feel you know someone from someone else’s description,” she said to Elodie. “I  _ like _ living in the middle of nowhere, and nearly everyone who comes to stay has a very good reason to like it the same themselves. I’m sure he’ll be right at home, here.”

Next, Elodie camped out on her unmade bed with the books she’d gotten from the library arrayed in front of her. She decided she would have to ration the lycanthropy book, as it was the one she was most delighted to look at, not that learning actual real working spells wasn’t also high on her list. It was very important to her to be able to stand in for an adult witch with typical knowledge, so she opened up the  _ Standard Book of Spells _ and started reading.

She’d underestimated herself, in more ways than one. The afternoon flew by, with Elodie’s wand movements and casting voice becoming more and more confident as time progressed. The thing that the books hadn’t conveyed properly here was how completely, ridiculously  _ fun _ it was! Elodie felt like she was addicted to the feeling of casting spells, even more so to the amazement of making things work with actual magic. Even after a whole three hours or more of spellcasting, she still couldn’t get over the fact that she could speak an incantation, wave a gorgeous carved piece of wood around, and feel the power to make things happen move from her chest, through her arm, and out through the tip of  _ her wand. _

By the time she heard the maid’s voice at her door, knocking and asking if she was all right and did she want to come down for dinner, Elodie had cast her way through most of Grade 1 of her textbook. She got up gingerly from the center of the floor where she’d been sitting cross-legged, and gave herself a few seconds to appreciate exactly how messy she’d let everything get (conjuring was one of the few things she’d skipped ahead to learn, so that she’d have materials for earlier lessons). Elodie felt an urge to cast  _ Scourgify _ on the room, given that the mess was mostly made from conjured objects, but she decided that the library books weren’t something she was willing to have to pay to replace, should the spell get carried away thanks to her novice status. She reached out and opened the door, stepped through it quickly, and smiled awkwardly at the maid.

“Good evening! I didn’t realize what time it was. I’ve been, uh…” she stopped, internally rolling her eyes at her instinct to explain herself. “Wondering! I’ve been wondering if you could help me. I think I must have had some of that cursed juice last night,” Elodie said, making the split second decision to capitalize on the complete and utter mess she was making of not looking guilty or suspicious. “Because I am pretty sure I set up a brewing area, and I can’t for the life of me remember where it is!”

“Oh, I’d wondered why I hadn’t seen you down there today,” the woman said, nodding sagely. “It’s down the stairs from the kitchen, second door to the left. Right next to my own room.” 

Elodie thanked her and followed her down to the large dining room. There were three round tables seating six, and a couple smaller, square tables near two large bay windows, with two or three chairs at each. The tall, wide bay windows that let the evening sun in were framed by intricate drapes of cloth that hung vertically in the foot or so wide space between each pane of glass. Each was different, and Elodie saw that at least two were decorated in Hogwarts House colors, that of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

There was a beverage station against the near wall, and across the room from that was an arched doorway that clearly led to a kitchen. Beside that doorway was a counter through which kitchen staff could place food trays and serving platters for each table. The few place settings that still remained were set with good quality silverware and china, and Elodie could see that a few residents were already finished. They were carrying their plates and accompanying dishes into the kitchen and out of sight. The overall effect was one of homey efficiency.

Elodie wandered over to the beverage station, filled a cup with an unknown substance, and walked over to an unused place at the closest table. An older lady whose clothing screamed ‘maiden aunt’ smiled at her when she lifted up her plate, meaning to head to a nonexistent buffet table.

“Out of it today, Elodie,” the woman cautioned. “Here, I’ll load you up.”

In a few seconds and a few whiplike waves of the woman’s wand, Elodie’s plate was populated with scoops and slices that wove their way around each other to rest neatly separated from each other on her plate.

“That was professional,” Elodie said, despite herself. The woman winked, waved her hand as if to say, ‘you better believe it,’ and turned back to her earlier conversation.

After a long minute during which Adult, Responsible Elodie warred inside her mind with Picky Kid Elodie, she dug in. Everything was delicious. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she’d been! As soon as she’d finished her plate, though, Elodie realized something else. She was  _ exhausted. _

She’d never done any extra reading about the whole universe of the Harry Potter books, so she didn’t know if there was any lore behind the use of magical energy, and whether there was a finite amount of it--whether she was typical tired, or  _ magically _ tired, but either way, Elodie decided after she put her dishes into the boarding house kitchen, she was going to bed.

If she woke up back home after only spending a day in Harry Potter's Universe, so be it.

 

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Elodie woke to the sunshine heating her face. Before she even opened her eyes, she smiled the happiest smile she’d ever smiled in her entire life. Then, secure in the knowledge that this precious gift wasn’t being taken away from her too soon, she drifted back to sleep.

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The first thing Elodie did when she finally did roll out of bed (after, of course, getting dressed in another beautiful outfit of Mellie’s) was to walk into the brewing room,  _ Wolf’s Bane: Dismantling the Shame of Lycanthropy _ in her hand. The reality of where she was and who she would most likely meet became almost overpowering, once she saw the actual cauldron of Wolfsbane. The potion was resting on a stone table (no chance of being knocked over, or tipping due to a wobbly wooden table, she guessed), with a white square of linen underneath the cauldron (perhaps to capture any drips should it bubble over unobserved). Nearby there was a metal tray and a bowl of water that seemed to be charmed to be warm, as there was steam escaping from it periodically. The tray held a wooden spoon, a metal spoon, and a third spoon that Elodie could only describe as ‘enchanted,’ as it glowed faintly purple in a way that obscured the material it was made from. Beside the three spoons lay a stack of metal measuring cups and a white marble pestle. The latter was clearly to be used with the white marble mortar next to the metal tray. 

There were other utensils whose uses Elodie could only guess at. Something that could only be accurately described as a magical cooler or mini-fridge was sitting on the floor beside the stone table. Inside the visible, blue hued force field that skirted the very top was a myriad of ingredients, some contained in glass jars, others simply laid neatly on shelves. Some items looked like what Elodie would consider ordinary potion ingredients, such as leafed herbs, a delicate flower or two, some feathers, and a couple of crystallized rocks in brilliant colors. Others looked straight out of an 80s Halloween horror film. There were three actual claws, held together by a rubber band, which was so incongruous that Elodie laughed out loud. There was a whole shelf that seemed dedicated to vials of blood in various colors, and the capper to the freak-show was a jar that held slightly off-white, veiny spheres in a liquid that obscured them from view. Elodie would have bet half the Galleons in Mellie’s change purse that they were eyeballs.

The orderly attention to detail continued around the room, with a large sheet of parchment affixed to the wall under the window. On it, Mellie had put stats and measurements about the potion she was brewing. Elodie realized this whole display of competence was the result of Mellie’s training; a potion of this complexity and power was probably dangerous at at least one point during its brewing, and if something happened (and indeed, something  _ had  _ happened) to Mellie, the potion wasn’t completely left to its own devices. Anyone tasked with cleaning it up would know exactly when it had been started (two days ago), what ingredients were already added (this list was extensive), and how long it was expected to take to complete ( _ thirty-four _ more days).

Elodie stared at the precise lines of the little calendar Mellie had conjured in the corner of her diagram. It was spelled to check off the days as they passed, or at least, Elodie hoped it would, but if the potion progressed normally, it wouldn’t be completed by the next full moon. She imagined that this hadn’t been such a big problem for someone like Severus Snape, who probably had some sort of on-going batch enchantment on the Wolfsbane he’d brewed during  _ Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban _ . He’d most likely been instructed to start his batch before the school year began, just as Albus had instructed Mellie to do. 

Elodie set herself a new task. It was twofold: first, she needed to find out where they were in the moon cycle. Second, she needed to discover the official end date to Hogwarts. The day Remus Lupin walked out of his classroom in disgrace was the day after he’d missed his dose of Wolfbane--which was the date of the full moon. For a long moment, Elodie managed to convince herself that Remus could simply bring the remainder of the Wolfsbane with him from Hogwarts to tide him over until hers was finished.

Then, she remembered who had brewed it.

“Abso-fricking-lutely no chance for that, then,” Elodie said, making a face. “So, I need to know when Hogwarts ends, and then I need to know when the next full moon is. Without Google.”

“Excuse me, Miss?” the maid spoke from outside the door. A second later, there was the sound of a small knock.

“I’ll be right there,” Elodie called out. She looked at the brewing station and frowned. Would anyone discover it and decide Elodie or someone she cared about was a dangerous monster, and destroy it? Right on the heels of that thought came another more comforting one: it was very likely that Mellie had thought of this and came up with some sort of precaution against it. Indeed, when Elodie opened the door, she saw that the large sheet of paper rippled slightly and wiped completely clear of all information, a development that, despite her trust in her counterpart, made Elodie’s blood run cold. No way did she know enough about the potion to remember how to make it!

“An owl’s just come for you, a great big one! Here’s the package.” The other woman looked with obvious curiosity at the package, but, knowing it was certain to be the book the headmaster promised, Elodie opened the brown wrapping parchment enough to show her the cover. 

“Not very interesting, I’m afraid,” Elodie said. This was completely relative, of course, as Hermione Granger would probably immediately know about this particular book and its significance. The owl itself was nowhere to be found, and Elodie felt bereft, sure that Dumbledore had decided she wasn’t useful enough to assist with Order business. Inside the front cover was a small scrap of paper, however, with a few lines dashed out.

 

> Dear Elodie,
> 
> A lot has happened in the time since my last message. I feel I will need to visit you after the term is officially over and my duties are lighter, so the secrecy I insisted on via phoenix feather in the previous letter is no longer necessary. Please do start the potion as soon as possible, it will definitely be needed.
> 
> No need to send back a message with this owl. She’s paid to deliver packages, and has many more to deliver thanks to the end of the school year. If you have good news for me about space at Hollyfield, please send Winnifred’s as soon as possible.
> 
> Albus

 

There was no date, but the goosebumps on Elodie’s arms and the contents of the letter both told her that last night must have been a full moon. A fully transformed Remus Lupin had been roaming the Forbidden Forest while Elodie slept, an unknown number of miles between them. Thinking about that was sobering, because no matter how well prepared Mellie was, the Wolfsbane potion was serious business, and Elodie was in no way qualified to oversee it. 

Elodie looked around, realizing that she was still standing in the hallway outside the potions lab. She tucked Dumbledore’s letter back into the large tome, patted the door to the lab, and headed for her room. As she walked up the stairs, Elodie examined the book, noting that the look and feel of the tome was that of a modern repackaging of ancient lore. She liked that it seemed to have sidestepped the pretentious title ( _ I’m looking at you, ‘Moste Potente Potions,’  _ Elodie laughed to herself). ‘Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyrd.’ The cover was ornately embossed, full of gold leaf and rich burgundy embellishments. The large E on the cover was raised, with the words ‘Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall’ stemming from it in an elegant, organic way. The effect was a slick marriage between modern style and ancient glory.

When she finally reached her room and had a chance to leaf through the thick parchment pages, Elodie felt like she was trespassing on something extraordinary. Just inside the front cover was a second title page, and Elodie couldn’t help but laugh at her earlier joke about  _ Moste Potente Potions _ , because here was what couldn’t be anything other than the book’s original title, published sometime in the 1600’s, although the print was so tiny and serifed that it was hard to make it out. ‘Pociouns Forthraell Wyrd’ blew Potente out of the water, no question. 

The first page with significant information on it was a list of contributors, with names that even she as a relatively new fan of the Harry Potter book series would recognize. Damocles Belby was listed near the top, as the inventor of the Wolfsbane potion, and there were other names that sounded familiar, like Newt Scamander. Elodie figured these were contributors of various ingredients or observations, not just the creators of the potion recipes themselves. Another name stood out to her, that of Horace Slughorn. She followed the page number listed after his name and found a short bio. He’d been a professor at Hogwarts for an astounding sixty years, something she hadn’t realized. It was still a few years before he would reappear at Hogwarts at Dumbledore’s urging, but Elodie wondered if he was truly in hiding as she’d pictured after reading about him. According to the valuable, coveted book she held in her hands, that wasn’t the case.

She caught her breath. Would it be ridiculous to send the man an owl? She had some plausible deniability in being American and finding his name listed in such a venerable publication. The reason he retired surely wasn’t public knowledge, after all, and Elodie couldn’t be faulted for choosing to contact Slughorn instead of the current Potions Master at Hogwarts, given that school was still in session. 

Then again, what would she say?

Elodie grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and dashed out a quick draft of a letter. As she wrote, she tried to evoke a spirit of deference while peppering in the kinds of things she remembered that the wizard valued, hoping she’d catch his attention enough to want to respond, despite his self-imposed exile.

> Dear Mr. Slughorn,
> 
> My name is Elodie Merriman. I found your name in  _ Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyrd _ , which my friend Albus Dumbledore gave me just today--I can scarcely believe I’m holding it in my hands! What a great honor! But, I digress. 
> 
> I recently finished my qualifying exams as a Potions Master after studying under Marcos Francis in America. The reason I’m writing you is that, despite having learned a great deal from him, the ending of my apprenticeship was acrimonious in the extreme, and he took pains to try to destroy my life and my vocation. Albus was most helpful in rescuing me, and has done so much for me that I don’t wish to burden him with questions that would be better served in being asked of someone with your background and vast knowledge.
> 
> Less than a week ago I began brewing Wolfsbane. A day or so ago, I woke with altered memories and physical changes that are clearly the result of a magical attack. There are gaps in my memory, and one of these involves Wolfsbane. I was wondering, could I ask you a few specific questions about the brewing process to ensure that I am not leaving out something vital? I feel confident enough, but the attack has left me doubting my ability to self-assess.

 

Elodie stopped, setting the quill aside. She liked what she’d written, but knew there were some serious hours of research ahead of her in regards to Wolfsbane before she could ever send it. The importance of the potion along with its complexity left her with no doubt that she’d need assistance, but the specific areas she’d need help with would only come after studying it. She ran her fingertips along the raised bumps and swirls on the cover of her new book.

“Soon,” she promised. Instead of lifting it and looking through its richly illustrated pages for Wolfsbane, though, Elodie reached instead for the werewolf book. She’d work up to enthralling the wyrd, she told herself, instead of jumping into potionsmaking at heirloom quality.

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Just as it had the day before, mealtime came faster than she’d expected, but Elodie was grateful when she heard the bell chime to call residents down to the dining room. She felt like the hours she’d spent reading about werewolves in general and Wolfsbane in particular were some of the most intense she’d ever spent with an educational book. She felt instinctively that the  _ Wolf’s Bane _ book was on the far spectrum of fairness when it came to lycanthropy, and for that she was grateful. Her mind was awash with facts and anecdotes as she ate ( _ No wonder Lupin is covered in scars--werewolf bites never truly heal as much as scab over, how awful! _ she thought with sympathy), and Elodie was glad she’d brought a length of parchment and her pencil with her to jot down things she didn’t want to forget. So far, she’d written specifics about the Wolfsbane itself (1. Initial construction of the potion involves 24 non-stop hours of work and precise ingredient preparation and combination (that must have been particularly tough on Snape!); 2. Potion to be left alone with no stirring for the entire first week (THANK GOD); 3. Starting on the 8th day, there are specific stirring instructions that I. Can. Not. Fuck. Up.), and a few notes on werewolves (--There seems to be a general consensus that there is a heightened senses aspect for them during the four or so days leading up to and following a full moon, which probably means he knew exactly how broken hearted Harry was to say goodbye, how bittersweet! --That probably means he’ll still be in that mode when he arrives, and you should stay the heck away, by all means!).

Looking up from her notes, Elodie felt a strange sense of belonging as she saw the other residents in their animated or subdued conversations with each other, depending on their personalities. She saw Winnifred sitting at a nearby table, her warm friendly smile and patient demeanor a magnet of conversation for her table of residents. As she looked over in her direction, however, Elodie caught one of the maids handing Winnifred a message, and shortly thereafter, the older woman was politely making her way out of the room, handing her half-eaten plate off at the kitchen window. 

Elodie knew she was overly attuned to her own anxiety about actually meeting Remus Lupin, but that didn’t mean that she was wrong in her assumption that he’d arrived. She finished up her food as fast as she could, keeping an eye on the door in case Lupin was invited to grab lunch first thing. After clearing away her plate and a few tablemates’ dishes as well, Elodie realized that she couldn’t simply escape up to her own room, however. The main staircase at Hollyfield House was a grand one, and with good reason, as it branched out into the many hallways that held the residents’ rooms. The second staircase was mostly used by the staff (and Elodie wasn’t even certain she could find it), which essentially made the staircase into an elegant choke point, one that she couldn’t allow herself to use so close to what she was certain was Lupin’s arrival.

Even if she poofed back into her own existence the instant she laid eyes on the man, it was still too important to her not to meet him while he might be able to sense the  _ wrongness _ of her. Logic wasn’t welcome, she told herself stiffly. She really hated lying, and while she was usually able to use semantics and half-truths to dance around hurtful things she didn’t want to tell people, it was pretty hard to conceal a mis-match between what she might say and how her body language and heartbeat betrayed her.

‘ _ You are completely ridiculous _ ,’ she told herself after she’d spent a nearly an hour walking halfway to the library and back, twice. Elodie had finally come up with a solution to her worry that she’d run into her favorite character, but the genius of it was completely marred by the fact that she felt stupid that she felt she needed it in the first place. Shaking her head, Elodie took a deep breath, preparing herself to run for the back door of the boarding house. She’d run in, with a totally reasonable explanation for her racing heartbeat, and pop right into her own room, looking like someone who had to do something  _ right now _ , something that might just be an emergency.

Thus, racing heart and discovery anxiety was covered in one fell swoop. 

With all of her focus on meeting Lupin and hoping for the opportunity to become friends with him, Elodie hadn’t prepared herself at all for meeting Albus Dumbledore. She also hadn’t even really thought about the change in her appearance from Mellie and how strange it was that no one had noticed it--until she dashed up the staircase to her room and found the Hogwarts Headmaster standing at her door, poised to knock.

“Oh! Allow me,” Elodie said, her breath coming in gasps as she darted forward and used the key. Her heart pounded so frantically that she was certain that Lupin’s werewolf senses would prompt him to look for the terrified person somewhere in the building. What could she say to explain herself now?

It was no wonder that people thought criminals were stupid, Elodie thought to herself. Even when a person was given the greatest gift they could ever imagine, it was possible to forget one or two important details and completely incriminate themselves!

“Elodie, how good to see you,” Dumbledore said, when she finally turned away from the door to face him. She’d stood there for a long minute trying to calm herself, but he had waited patiently. It was a behavior as odd as it was kind.

“Forgive me for seeming… strange,” Elodie said, wringing her hands in front of her.

“Something further has happened,” Dumbledore said, his tone of voice splitting the difference between question and statement. “Your aging glamour--”

“Has become permanent,” Elodie blurted out, her mind for once skipping past the obstructions of deliberation and inhibitions toward a conclusion that might not ruin everything. Her statement hung in the air, and Dumbledore lifted his wand and his eyebrows in an obvious question. “I’m not sure how you would ‘check,’ but you’re welcome to,” Elodie said, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply, her pulse finally reaching a rhythm that could be called steady just as her brain frantically picked up the slack. She wrote a checklist in her head, at lightning speed:

 

  * > _No one noticed a change, because someone placed an aging glamour on Mellie_

  * > _It must have been Mellie herself, because otherwise Dumbledore would have finite incantatum’d it away?_

  * > _The spectre of Jerk Francis is as good an explanation for the physical change as anything else, right?_

  * > _So, what do we say, the glamour just… settled in, and now I feel different? Because, I mean, I AM aged, I have a whole chunk of memories in there from my own actual Muggle life, after all!_

  * > _Can my Muggle life memories be extracted into a Pensieve? Would that prove or disprove my lie about the glamour?!_




 

Suddenly, Elodie realized what to do. Without opening her eyes, she spoke.

“Albus?” She hoped she didn’t sound too timid in her use of his name. The diary entries Elodie had read made it perfectly clear that Mellie was comfortable with addressing him so informally.

“Elodie, my dear, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice full of regret. She opened her eyes in surprise as he continued, “The magic here, it has a permanence that speaks of something beyond a simple finalism curse--”

“I’m not upset,” Elodie said, her voice barely audible. “I know that sounds crazy, but--I… Did you know I have a fondness for Muggle television?” Elodie turned to find where Albus was standing behind her, looking a little taken aback. “I know, typical Elodie gear switching, right? Well, I do, and one of the programs I enjoyed had this episode where the leader on a spaceship far from Earth had an experience I find very familiar right now.”

“A spaceship?” the headmaster of a magical school of Witchcraft and Wizardry said in amusement. “How fanciful.”

“The ship encountered a device, and the device cast a spell on the leader, causing him to feel like he was living an entirely different lifetime,” Elodie said, her hands tracing out the contours of her story. “It happened in barely an hour’s time, but when the spell ended, he felt like he’d lived until his death in a different world. Their medical--mediwitches,” she corrected herself, “did a scan and found that his brain contained the correct amount of memories for an actual lifetime lived.

“Albus, a few nights ago I fell asleep the Elodie you knew, and woke with  _ years _ more memories. A whole different life, lived as a Muggle. I could even show you, I’m certain of it, in a Pensieve.”

“As fascinating as that might be, I fear that’s not the point you’re trying to come to,” Albus said, perceptively.

“I’m sure it was meant as a punishment, ‘oh, she thinks she wants to glamour herself to hide away? Well, HERE, then,’” Elodie said, face scrunched up in a hateful expression to mimic the spectre of Jerk Francis from her counterpart’s diary. “And yes, there are drawbacks, and I’ll get to them, but--” Elodie wiped an unexpected tear from the corner of her eye. She’d become so invested in this magical version of herself that she’d gotten emotional in what she now saw as her defense of that persona. If she could persuade Albus Dumbledore that this amalgam of Mellie and herself was genuine, she just might be able to stay  _ and _ get help adjusting to all her newfound magic.

“Sit with me?” Dumbledore said, graciously filling the silence Elodie had left when she’d stopped speaking to gather herself. She walked over to where he’d settled onto her bed, and as she sat, he reached out to take her hand. When Elodie looked over at his face, it was a picture of gentle encouragement, with a little sorrow.

“It’s as if he’s so awful it didn’t occur to him how anything like this could have a positive outcome!” Elodie said, shaking her head. “It’s Empathy 101, right? Healing takes  _ time. _ And so by giving me what he probably saw as a bland, miserable life of Muggledom for what was probably fifteen years or something, what he really did was place distance between what he’s done to me and how I feel now!”

“A whole different life, did you say?” Albus asked.

“With friends, a job, losing my mother in an accident--everything,” Elodie confirmed. 

“But, no magic?”

“When I woke up, I didn’t realize I was a witch at first,” Elodie told Albus Dumbledore with absolute truthfulness.

“So, tell me what you’re saying,” he asked her, clasping his other hand overtop their joined ones.

“I’m--” Elodie paused and squeezed his hand with her captured one, raising her other hand to brush away another errant tear. What she wanted to say felt like she could possibly be literally signing away that real Muggle life she’d lived and breathed in just last week. Could she really do that?

Dumbledore slid one hand away, spoke a spell in a whisper, and then held out the handkerchief he’d just conjured. It had an embroidered phoenix on it in rich, fiery thread. Elodie took it, wiped her eyes, and breathed out in a long, steady sigh.

“I’m saying I’m okay with it. Being older, I mean. Because it’s the ultimate malicious compliance, isn’t it? No angry wizards apparating in to bang on Francis’s door--no Howlers sent to crush his eardrums. Just a manufactured peace, with the benefit of putting the pain of his horribleness what feels like so far in my past that it almost didn’t even happen to me,” Elodie said, all in a rush. 

“I could still try to reverse it, child,” Albus said, his expressive eyebrows rising in emphasis. “We could store that second life away to relive, if you felt you wanted to try.”

“Do you know--that doesn’t even seem tempting? Is that not the most insane part of all of this?” Elodie said after a minute of picturing how that might work.

“A simple de-aging potion? The failure rate has dropped quite--”

“With great respect, no, thank you,” Elodie said. She reached over and drew Dumbledore into an impulsive hug before she realized what she was doing. He was a surprisingly good hugger, despite his elaborate robes and consummate dignity.

“Good, that’s settled then, and I sense that subject is closed, now,” he said, when they’d both pulled back. She nodded. “Then, let’s address the drawbacks you mentioned?”

Elodie couldn’t help but look dismayed. She was so torn by her desire to do something actually materially  _ useful _ for Remus Lupin, while at the same time knowing it was irresponsible of her to attempt something so important with zero training. Then again,  _ she _ was also an Elodie Merriman, so wasn’t it possible to learn?

“Well, first things first: I barely remember anything magical. I’m capable at it, but it’s like I’m… well, a Muggle in Witch’s clothing? Or more accurately, a Witch in Muggle’s, I suppose. I went to the library.” Elodie got up and opened the rolltop desk to show Albus her school books.

“You’re concerned about the Wolfsbane,” Dumbledore said, standing. Elodie closed her eyes and sighed.

“Yes. I wrote out a letter to send to Horace Slughorn in hopes that he’d be able to coach me through it,” she admitted.

“Breathe, Elodie,” commanded Albus. She opened her eyes to look at him, as his tone of voice was far from the authoritative disappointment she’d been expecting. In response, he smiled, his eyes twinkling their amusement. “That’s exactly the sort of thing he needs lately,” Dumbledore said, presumably referring to Slughorn. “I’m not the most gifted at Potions myself, but I can certainly go examine it, if you promise you won’t faint away from sheer anxiety?”

“Is it that obvious?” Elodie asked meekly.

“You’ve lost all color in your face, and I’m not entirely sure you’re still breathing.”

“It’s just that I could tell by the way you have spoken about him that you value Lupin highly, and I suspect you were probably one of his professors if not his Headmaster when he attended Hogwarts, and I really want to repay you for everything you’ve done for Mellie--” Elodie stopped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Instead of demanding to know what she was clearly hiding, Dumbledore smiled at her and  _ waited  _ in that gentle way he had.

“I wasn’t kidding about feeling like different people,” Elodie finally said, shrugging away the incredible importance of the moment. “Magical Elodie. ‘Mellie.’”

“This has been a time of incredible turmoil and change for you,” Albus said. He walked toward where Elodie was standing at the rolltop desk, reaching out to pick up the picture of Elodie’s mother. “Is this your mother, Elodie?” In the picture, Elodie’s mother waved, then turned around and pointed with both hands at the view behind her as if to say, ‘can you  _ believe _ this?!’ It was a gesture Elodie remembered fondly, from when she had been a child until well into adulthood.

“Yes,” she answered, taking the frame as he offered it to her and smiling at her mother’s moving image.

“And, can you perform magic?” Albus then asked, pointing to her wand in her side pocket.

In response, Elodie pulled her wand free and cast a spell to close her wardrobe door, which had been poking open slightly, obstructed by a fold of clothing.

“And, you’re willing to learn the things that time has made distant?”

“Yes,” Elodie said firmly, mentally shutting a door on the way her brain reminded her that, despite how well everything was working out, she was still telling something that very closely resembled a lie.

“Then, Magical Elodie, will you show me where you are brewing the Wolfsbane?”

“Yes,” she said, marveling at how easily she had allowed herself to be persuaded.

“Self-doubt is unscrupulous,” Dumbledore told her, holding open her door for them both. “The best way I have found to fight it is with joy.”


	3. Ups and Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie's correspondence with Horace Slughorn helps her with her worries about the Wolfsbane, but she still worries about what she may or may not change.

The sun didn’t wake Elodie up on her third day in wonderland. The clouds that had gathered over the area prevented that, but even at home, she’d often woken a minute or so before her alarm. She had yet to master magical alarm clocks, but when she opened her eyes on that third day, she did find something welcoming on her bedside table: a dish of sweets left behind by Dumbledore. 

She had told the older wizard a half-truth about Lupin; she felt like she was being a bit deceptive in that her memory wasn’t fully returned when it came to his vital potion, so she planned to avoid him for a few days until she felt more confident. To her relief, Albus had agreed this was a good idea, and told her he hadn’t been too pushy about Lupin meeting her. She’d even earned a look of admiration from Dumbledore when she pointed out Lupin just recently been through a full moon, so he might not be in his best ‘first impression’ mode anyway.

Thankfully her instinct to people please hadn’t led her to ask how Lupin was after missing a dose of Wolfsbane, because explaining  _ that _ away would have taken a  _ lot _ of doing.

Elodie wasn’t a person who liked keeping secrets, and she really hated telling lies, but at the same time, she just couldn’t let herself tell Dumbledore the absolute truth. 

Albus’s sweets were welcome for more than their happy scent and presentation. Today was the first day Elodie was certain that Remus Lupin was in attendance at the boarding house. Her goal of keeping away necessitated missing mealtimes in the dining room, and while she planned to pop by the kitchen for sandwiches at non-peak times for lunch and dinner, breakfast wasn’t as easily sorted. Conjuring her own food might be an option, but that would have to come after she visited the library for the next set of spell books. So she was glad she had at least a little something to eat that morning, even if it wasn’t substantial.

A walk to the library was her plan for the morning, that and some time spent writing out what little she remembered about the very end of the Prisoner of Azkaban book. School year events were always more memorable than the summer ones, and what she could remember about the summer months had never before mattered quite as much, before. She wondered if magical libraries carried back catalogues of newspapers.

“Hermione would know,” Elodie said, as she picked out an outfit. She really did feel like a princess or one of those women in a romance novel who’d lucked into a benefactor, someone who bought the female lead character a wardrobe of pretty things. In that context, it was disconcerting rather than exciting in this instance, given that the benefactor in Mellie’s case had been Albus Dumbledore.

Before she left for the library, Elodie wrote out a few things on a parchment roll. Her morning just wasn’t ready to be started without a To Do list, after all.

    * Obtain a secure journal for timeline purposes
    * __Standard Book of Spells, Grades 3 and 4_ , return previous books_
    * Get a specific food conjuring book, make sure it includes troubleshooting!
    * Book on Diagon Alley? As an American, probably not a ridiculous notion
    * OH! Book on American school system in case it’s a subject of conversation?
    * Might as well get a book on how to levitate A MILLION BOOKS, Ellie
    * Swallow pride and get a book about the floo network!
      * Seriously, you need to have access to other stores, this is the safest way
      * Stop procrastinating.
      * This list is procrastinating!

On a whim, before she left, Elodie decided to add to her--Mellie’s--journal. She felt like there ought to be more entries in her pre-existing journal, especially since it was only a little more than a month since Mellie had started it. Once it was in her hand and she had the next page open, she was only intimidated for less than ten minutes before she finally started to write. Her hesitation was related to the question of whether to be 100%, 75%, or 25% honest in what she wrote.

She settled on 75%. She was--at worst--only a steward for Mellie for all she knew, and they shared enough DNA for Elodie to know that Mellie wouldn’t welcome any kind of official inquiry into a strange episode where she appeared and acted as though she were 15 or so years older than she ought to be. 

“Right, so. For posterity…” Elodie said, and started writing.

 

> June 7(?) 1994
> 
> Still adjusting to being  _ actually _ older, and being in a position to say definitively that yes, time does heal wounds. My memories of that in-between time, as a Muggle… they’re somehow less solid feeling than memories from reading a good book, but they still feel real. I’m sure JerkFace expected them to be boring, to feel like an exile, but instead, they’ve just made me supremely grateful for what I currently have.
> 
> Given that JF definitely knows enough about… plastic surgery (can’t remember the non-Muggle equiv, that’s a bit freaky!) to pass as a doctor of one, I’m not surprised he’d think a fate worse than death is to become instantly 15 years older with absolutely nothing to show for it. 
> 
> Clearly, he hasn’t experienced any trauma that required the distance of time to heal.
> 
> Uncertainty, now that’s a thing JF would hate. So, that’s my gift to him. Albus said, ‘Uncertainty is a thief of joy.’ I hope JF wonders why I haven’t contacted him to reverse his attack. I hope he spends every day expecting a visit from Albus Dumbledore, of all people, to demand he face justice. Let him wait. I’ll be here, living.
> 
> With joy.
> 
>  

A quick knock on Elodie’s door broke her cycle of reading and re-reading the entry, and she rushed over to open it.

“You’re almost missing breakfast!” the nice maid whose name Elodie just couldn’t ever remember was standing there with a stack of freshly washed blankets.

“Oh, I should have thought to tell you! I have given myself a task of learning how to conjure some food,” Elodie improvised, inwardly wincing at the look of polite horror on the woman’s face. “I know, it’s silly, but it’s only a few days, and if all I get out of it is the loss of a few pounds, well, that’s probably okay.”

“How about I bring you a sandwich and some chips for dinner?” the maid said, her voice a mixture of skepticism and suggestion.

Elodie wanted to hug her.

“That’s perfect! Is there anything you need from the library?” Elodie said, beaming.

“Bless you, no, I’ve got the quarterly cleaning rounds this week. I’ll be by later with your sandwich. No shame in looking forward to it, now,” Elodie was told, and she thanked the woman profusely before shutting the door. After adding one more item to her to do list (- learn the nice maid’s name, and  _ remember it _ this time), Elodie grabbed her miniaturized sweater and coinpurse, and headed for the library.  
  


8888888888888888

Elodie had too many books to focus on floating them  _ and _ reading one this time, so she spent the walk back observing the various interesting parts of the path, and trying not to speak out loud as she thought about the parts of the third Harry Potter book that would be happening shortly. She’d gotten a book on secrecy enchantments, and to her great luck, the librarian had been selling spelled journals, which looked to be the sort of thing one bought for a pre-teen girl, but Elodie wasn’t picky. He’d warned her they weren’t the kind that could be transfigured into something else, or, as he’d put it, ‘something more befitting a clever adult,’ which she was pretty sure was a backhanded compliment.

“Given my plans for lunch, I’m not so sure I qualify,” Elodie said out loud. As soon as she’d spoken, she heard a scrambling kind of sound in the bushes nearby. It was clearly a startled animal, but the sounds were bigger than a simple squirrel or hedgehog. She looked around and saw that she was close to the outside veranda slash courtyard area of Hollyfield, so she told her heartbeat it was safe to consume normal levels of adrenaline.

Her heart seemed to disagree, and the large shaggy dog that nosed out of the underbrush a few yards ahead didn’t help much when it came to adrenaline levels. Then again, the fact that it was a black dog didn’t help, either. 

_ Sirius!!! _ Her heart leapt into her throat at the idea.

Elodie almost rolled her eyes. Her fangirl brain  _ thrived _ on adrenaline. Telling herself that there wasn’t much reason for him to be in the area ( _ YES THERE IS. Remus!!!! _ ) wasn’t doing much good, either. Whether it was or wasn’t, Elodie herself had no reason to suspect and zero way to know for sure who might be in front of her, so she told herself that she had to act in a predictable, reasonable way. Dogs that big were powerful, after all, and she was new enough to spellcasting that she might just cast an  _ Alohomora  _ where she meant to cast  _ Protego. _

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Elodie told the dog when she was within about six to eight feet of it. 

At this distance, she didn’t see a collar, and her memory failed her when she tried to think about whether Sirius’s animagus form had any identifying characteristics. He had a wand now, she was pretty sure, and with one, he wouldn’t have to rely on Buckbeak to travel. She didn’t think there was much information in the Goblet of Fire book about where Sirius was staying before he moved into #12 Grimmauld Place.

That thought made her stop and smile. Was she an adjunct Secret Keeper by virtue of being able to ‘read’ the note Albus had given Harry with the location of #12? Wouldn’t  _ that _ be something interesting to discover! For now, though, she had a serious, or, rather, a Sirius issue in front of her. He’d walked to the middle of the path and sat, and she could feel the weight of his pending disapproval of her in the stiff way the dog was sitting there, unmoving except for his eyes. Elodie tried to think of what Sirius Black would think of this situation. Strange witch, but that wasn’t so out of place in a new location, right? She couldn’t outright  _ tell _ him she would someday be friends with Remus, and honestly, she only had the strongest, firmest hope of that being the case anyway.

By now, they had probably been standing and looking at one another for at least five minutes, which was definitely unusual in anyone’s book, Rowling’s or otherwise. Elodie started walking toward the path again.

“I could Apparate into the house, you know,” she lied to the dog. “But I sense that you’re scoping me out. Are you our new guardian, then?”

‘Possibly Sirius’ put his front paws out in front of him and stretched for a few seconds before resuming his guard-dog-like posture.

“Ahh, it’s probably the accent,” Elodie said, slapping her own forehead gently. “I’m American.”

‘Probably Padfoot’ tipped his head sideways.

Elodie stepped forward again, and the dog lifted to a stand. “I won’t try to pet you, Guardian,” she said to him. “But I would like to go home, such as it is.”

Sirius (it  _ had  _ to be) looked over toward Hollyfield House, a good twenty yards away, and then back at Elodie. 

“I’m sure the owner, Winnifred, wouldn’t mind you checking out visitors, but I won’t say anything to her. She can discover you on her own, if you’re still nearby the next time she comes out here.” Elodie wanted to reassure Sirius that she wasn’t planning to say anything about his appearance, and it seemed that this was the right move, as Padfoot started backing into the foliage at the edge of the path the next time she started walking toward him.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” she called to the rustling bushes as she passed by. Sirius Black showing up where Remus Lupin was currently living made a lot of sense, in a way that wasn’t important enough to be a plot point in a book about Harry Potter, she decided. Especially since the intervening 13 years had spoken so often of him as a literal guardian of his friends, and failing. Even though he hadn’t been the official Secret Keeper, it was only human nature to feel somewhat responsible, especially since he’d known what had happened. She could absolutely picture herself becoming incoherent and insane if she’d been blamed for something as awful as what he’d been accused of.

As Elodie walked up the grand staircase of Hollyfield, she wondered which room Lupin was in. Had Sirius told him that he’d be coming by to check up on him? Something told her he hadn’t. Just as she shut the door to her room, she came to a horrible realization: since Peter was the Potters’ Secret Keeper, that meant that when the Potters went into hiding, they would have had to say goodbye to their other best friends for a period of time. Except, if Remus had been under the impression Sirius was the Keeper, that meant this goodbye hadn’t been done together. The friends had scattered to the four winds, most likely, in order to keep the Potters safe. 

How long had Remus been without his friends  _ before _ Lily and James died? Goosebumps rose up on Elodie’s arms at the thought. Months, surely. Had there been a fight beforehand? Had they had to rush it? She couldn’t imagine the horror of having not seen a loved one for months before she lost them forever. She was very grateful that she’d seen her mother the day before that flight in 2001.

“ _ Oh, my God _ !” Elodie practically shouted. She ran over to the desk and snatched up the picture.  _ She’s alive! _ It was one thing to orient herself to 1994 in the context of her favorite book, with her favorite characters populating that world. But while she’d managed to fit herself into the world, she hadn’t really examined how the world fit  _ around _ her, and what that might mean for her mother, until just now.

After recognizing her mistake it was less than a minute before Elodie had the desk open and a big length of parchment ready. 

> Dear Mom,
> 
> I hardly know what to write. I am sure I’ve already told you about how much Jerk Francis has tried to screw with me, but Mom, this time… 
> 
> I’m safe in the UK, as I’m sure I told you. I was using a Glamour spell, an aging one, basically to hide. Well, I woke up a few days ago with the memories of fifteen years of living. I could write a hundred letters about those memories, believe me, but the upshot of all of this is, I’ve aged. I’m in my thirties. 
> 
> I can imagine that of all the people I’ve confided in (a grand total of two, hah), you’re the one the most likely to see this as terrible. After all, do those years come off the other end of my life? But Mom, it’s not so bad. Those memories are like a band-aid, sort of. They’re keeping me insulated from the abuse, and I’m sure that if Francis knew he’d be looking for ways to reverse it. I don’t intend to do anything about it.
> 
> But, Mom.  _ Mom _ . In that other life, you died. You died on an airplane, because in those memories, we were  _ Muggles. _ Please laugh with me, right? RIGHT?! But you don’t need to use an airplane. You can live past 2001. I only wish losing Dad was different, because, Mom, they’re all blended. I don’t remember much of anything correctly. It’s scary, but at the same time, I don’t miss what I’ve lost, except for you. Your funeral was beautiful, with flowers you love, songs you liked to jam to, and filled with the people who you thought well of. I hated it.
> 
> Fifteen years is a long time, and let me tell you, those last eight without you felt like they were wrong even before I woke up to find out they hadn’t really happened. 
> 
> That’s not really accurate to how everything feels, but it’s as close as I can get in a letter. I’ll write again soon, but I have this picture of you and I just keep thinking of all the stationary pictures I had to live with in that other life, and I had to Owl you. I love you so, so much.
> 
> So much, Mom!
> 
> ~Your Elodie. Or, if not exactly your Elodie, an Elodie who loves you every bit as much as any Elodie from any universe, magical or Muggle.

Elodie set her pencil down and choked back the tears that crashed on her like a wave on a far-flung shore. She wished she could travel like in Star Trek. She’d just beam down for a ten minute visit, and come right back--and she could picture the exact place she’d visit: the shores near Marblehead, Massachusetts, where her grandmother had lived. She almost missed the places as much as the people, because despite the fact that some of those people were gone, the places remained. 

Instead of letting herself wallow, though, Elodie decided to head off in search of an Owlery, or an approximation thereof. Her letter had a long way to go, but instead of avoiding an embarrassing conversation (‘Excuse me, please ignore the fact that I’m an adult who should know this already, but how do I Owl the States?’), she resolved to go find Winnifred and ask. By this time the next day, Elodie told herself, that letter would be on its way to her mother.  
  


8888888888888888

On her second day of avoiding Remus Lupin, Elodie ran into the black dog again. This time, she saw him as she left the garden just before lunch. 

“Well, good afternoon, Guardian,” she said as soon as she saw him. “If I had known you were going to be here, I would have brought you something to eat--but I’m sorry, you can’t have any of this sandwich,” Elodie told him, clutching the brown paper wrapped parcel to her chest. She leaned over like she was telling the dog a secret, even though they were still quite far from each other. “It’s my favorite: corned beef.”

To her delight the dog made a great show of shaking his head and making coughing sounds, and for Elodie, that clinched it. This was most definitely Sirius Black’s animagus form.

“Not a fan, are we?” she asked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Your loss, my doggie friend. If I’m not presuming too much to say so, of course,” she added quickly. ‘Definitely Sirius’s’ tail wagged happily. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you later, maybe?”

This time, Padfoot sat down and settled his head down on his front paws in what looked like a comfortable resting posture, his head facing Hollyfield House. Elodie wondered if Remus knew his friend was keeping an eye on him, and whether he’d be happy to hear it, if so. She had to imagine that he wouldn’t want his long-lost best friend to be captured due to being spotted in Lupin’s vicinity, after all.

Much of the rest of Elodie’s walk was consumed by musings about both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, as she tried to think about the timing of the scant references granted to them in the fourth book in the series. She sat on a dry log in the middle of the forest for a while and even tried to sketch out a timeline, but her memory was pretty hopeless, even with the structure of the Tri-Wizard Tournament to focus on. 

Was the Quidditch World Cup in the summer of the fourth book, or the fifth? She couldn’t remember, and even things she’d been sure of earlier in the week were starting to feel less concrete now. Her stomach growled, and she knew it was time to head back.

As Elodie walked back, she remembered that the next day was the start of a week of timed stirs of the Wolfsbane. One of the spells she’d decided would be helpful was a way to charm a small object into a watch that would make an object-appropriate noise at predictable intervals.

“What I wouldn’t give for a simple wristwatch!” she groused, loudly. 

At this, she heard a dog make a yelping noise nearby and she spun around, looking for the source.  _ Are there any farms nearby with sheepdogs? _ she wondered. Then she caught sight of the culprit.

“Not a sheepdog, but a sheep _ ish _ dog,” she said with a chuckle. “Did I startle you, Guardian?” she asked, thanking herself profusely for deciding to give Padfoot a nickname. Nothing would raise the hackles on an animagus who’d spent over a decade in Azkaban than a stranger with impossible knowledge.

Guardian/Padfoot, for his part, wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

“Hey, buddy,” Elodie said, stopping short of giving him a pat. “Time to head home, yeah? It’s getting dark, and I don’t know if there are overprotective farmers around here. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kinda scary looking.”

She didn’t get a reaction from the dog, but he did walk a few paces behind her for the next few minutes until Hollyfield House came into view, lighting up the dusk with a merry glow from most of the windows. Suddenly, Elodie had a thought.

“Did you come looking for me? You were out farther than I’ve ever seen you,” she asked. She hoped the question didn’t come across as too prescient for an everyday witch who hadn’t a clue he wasn’t a real dog. To her surprise, though, he came over and nosed a self-pat for himself under her hand, and loped away without a backward look.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Elodie said. She stood and watched the black speck disappear into the growing darkness, and then turned around to admire the inviting way Hollyfield beckoned her in out of the wilds. Just as she was about to step onto the path toward the courtyard, though, she saw a tall man stand up from one of the chairs and start for the dining room door. He walked in a peculiar way, hands in his pockets, but she couldn’t be sure of her hunch from so far away. Still, the thought that she’d maybe seen Remus Lupin from afar kept her grinning when she finally did allow herself to head inside.

“I’ll give it another day or so,” she told herself as she shut her door and locked it for the night. Tomorrow was the start of a new phase anyway, and she hoped against hope that she’d get an owl back from Horace Slughorn. It was either a little overdue or never going to happen, and Elodie planned to send a message to Albus around lunch time if she hadn’t gotten it by then. Timed stirring was something impostors could handle. Specialized ingredients added in sequence, scheduled to happen the following week? That was more scary.  
  


8888888888888888

As luck would have it,  _ someone  _ had sent her a message, which Elodie found out in the morning when she opened her eyes to find a pure white owl poking at the now-depleted tray of Albus’s sweets.

“Holy fucking shit!” she said in astonishment. To her shock and delight, the small, perfect little owl cocked its head to the side and tapped its beak open and shut twice. “Yes, well, you try waking up to a pristine unexpected visitor and see how well  _ you _ handle it,” Elodie protested. “I don’t even remember leaving my window open!”

She got up to find that she had, but not by much. As luck would have it, Elodie had actually practiced conjuring owl treats. The book she’d read about food spells had highly recommended this as something every good witch and wizard ought to master. She offered the treats to the white owl, who took a long look at them, then another long look at her before it ate one. She must have done well enough, as once the three treats were gone, the prim little thing stuck its leg out and offered her its message.

“It’s been an honor,” Elodie told it gravely once she’d carefully untied the scroll. Its job finished, the white owl gracefully slid through the narrow window opening and flew off. She’d never seen a feathered animal with such bright, clean white feathers, but once Elodie had opened the scroll and seen its author, she understood. It was from Slughorn.

 

> Dear Miss Merriman,
> 
> I was delighted to receive your letter and Albus Dumbledore’s missive referring to it in rapid succession a few days past. For a talented young witch from America to not only have the resources to be gifted  _ Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyld _ , but then to be bold enough to send a message to one of its authors, well! I am very much at your service, my dear. Albus has spoken quite well of you, and as we both know, his opinion is one of the most highly regarded in the entire world!
> 
> Now, I will confess that I have not heard much good about Mr. Francis, though unfortunately I  _ have _ heard of his existence. Which I suppose isn’t as unfortunate, as it means you have learned your skills under a possibly not incompetent Potions Master. You state in your message that the potion itself has already begun brewing, under your clear state of mind prior to this unusual curse. This is excellent! Wolfsbane has two quite dangerous phases in its brewing: at the beginning, and at the end. The time in between is about the proper medium to achieve the safe addition of the Aconite, which I’m sure you know is very, very dangerous.
> 
> Given how dangerous, I think we should plan on my visiting you in your boarding house toward the end of the brewing process. 
> 
> This brings me to a more delicate question. You say you are no more than a week into the brewing process--given that the next full moon will fall before the process is finished, is there a separate brew already provided for the werewolf in question? I ask because there is an alternative option for speeding up the ‘acclimation’ part of the potion, which would make it possible for the Wolfsbane to be used for the upcoming full moon. This would need to be performed at the beginning of the third week, and timed properly, it would bring forward the final week of brewing, allowing it to be ready for your werewolf.
> 
> I would need to know more about your life circumstances and travel before I would be comfortable sharing with you how to perform the alteration spell. Please let me know if this is something you’d be interested in? The brew times would be changing such that I would need to arrive a week earlier for the Aconite, if so.
> 
> Well, I hope my letter has found you in good spirits, and perhaps even have lifted them with the promises and encouragements therein! I’m sure my temperamental little white owl has already flown back, so I will look for your owl in due time!
> 
> Warmest regards,
> 
> Horace Slughorn  
>    
>    
> 

Elodie clasped the parchment roll to her chest in happiness. Having Slughorn’s help in brewing the Wolfsbane would be ideal, and the fact that he might know something that would speed up the brewing process was a great weight off of her back.

He hadn’t been one of her favorite characters in the books, but she did remember that one of the reasons he’d been retired and possibly in hiding had been his unwitting help for Tom Riddle’s quest for immortality. Elodie hadn’t really thought about it, but of course, Riddle was already benefiting from the Horcruxes he’d made years and years before, despite that not being a plot point for a few years’ worth of lived time in this universe. Slughorn’s shame had already chased him away from being a prominent staff member at Hogwarts, but Albus Dumbledore hadn’t yet realized what he’d done, as far as she could recall.

Time travel stories were among Elodie’s favorite. Every one of them had been written with a kind of code of conduct that governed the traveler’s truth-telling, and now she was coming up against it herself. How much change is too much? That was always the question.

For her, too much change was something that would prematurely advance the plot. The sequence of certain events were paramount to Lord Voldemort’s defeat--and one of these had to do with Regulus Black and the locket he’d stolen. In regards to that, her memory was even more fuzzy, but she was pretty sure it was sometime in the fifth book, or just before. When did the revived Order of the Phoenix start staying at #12 Grimmauld Place? For that matter, when did Albus revive the Order? If she hinted about horcruxes now, would that put the locket somewhere even  _ more _ impossible than the horrible cave Albus and Harry had experienced in the sixth book?

“Stick to the Prime Directive, Elodie,” she told herself. “At least for now.”

An enthusiastic chirping noise started sounding, and Elodie walked over to her desk to find the culprit. It was the charmed, bird-shaped brooch that she’d transfigured into a watch. The thing was set to go off at 7:45 AM, 8:00 AM, 7:45 PM, and 8:00 PM, to remind her to perform the stirring on the cauldron of Wolfsbane. She dressed quickly and headed down to the little room Mellie had set up, arriving in enough time to consult the recipe books as to which ladle she needed to use on Day One.

The alarm sounded again, and after she’d stirred it, the Wolfsbane reacted as expected (not at all). After Elodie had cleansed the ladle per her instructions, she headed up to her room to grab her borrowed copy  _ Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3. _ She’d raced through it, but felt fairly confident in her mastery of the trickier spells inside. There were a couple in each volume that she’d copied out carefully into a sheaf of parchment for future reference.

She had been surprised at first to see nothing in the book about Boggarts, but upon reflection she remembered that  _ Riddikulus _ was a more advanced spell. She could imagine Remus Lupin (having discovered the creature either by himself or via Filch’s rounds) wanting to use its appearance at Hogwarts as a teaching moment. That scene had been one of her very favorites in any of the books, because it showed such a wonderful glimpse into Lupin’s personality as a professor.

He was just so intuitive! Maybe it was his own sad history that had led him to encourage his younger students to face their fears, she mused as she headed out into the courtyard to start her walk to the library.  _ That _ was a dichotomy that needed a lifetime to study properly, wasn’t it? The child of a Ministry official whose job dealt with dangerous magical creatures, bitten by a werewolf himself, who then could still see the value in preparing his students for the battle of understanding and conquering their own fears?

Elodie paused at the low stone gate that lined Hollyfield’s perimeter and leaned against its taller lantern pillar. She felt a sharp stab of self doubt. What was she  _ doing _ playing pretend with something as important as Wolfsbane?! How dare she think she had  _ any _ right to even a millisecond’s worth of time from someone like Lupin? What if she ended up succeeding in becoming his friend, and then some random amount of time later she found herself in her bed in America, back in 2009? What then? She will have cost him yet  _ another _ friend, with a shoddy explanation to explain the loss, and a stranger, Mellie, in her place.

_ What fucking right did she have to do that to him?! _

Elodie grabbed at her wand with fingers that shook with emotion, and cast a conjuration spell, creating a sturdy backpack that she could cram her library books into. She was on the verge of a really good hard cry, and she didn’t think she’d manage to keep levitating the things while she was sobbing out her insides. The edge of one of the spell-specific books she’d gotten caught on her the stitching of her bag, and she nearly threw it in fury.

“I can’t even put a book inside a bag, and I think I can brew something that Lupin needs in order to not  _ hate himself _ ! Oh yeah, I’m  _ totally _ qualified for this job,” Elodie said, her voice breaking on the word ‘qualified.’ She gave in to the tears she knew wouldn’t hold off for long, and managed to choke out the word ‘please’ to beg the book to just  _ go in, already. _ It went in, but the dust cover crinkled.

Elodie sank to her knees and pulled the square book back out to examine the damage. It was the book about the floo network, the one she hadn’t even been brave enough to look at before deciding to take it back anyway. She whipped her wand back out and conjured up a handkerchief without really thinking much about it, blew her nose, and wiped her eyes, though that wasn’t going to do much more good than a cork in a breaking dam. Elodie smoothed the cover down and opened the mouth of her bag wider, sliding the book in easily this time.

She used the stone wall as support to stand, and as the tears welled back up in her eyes, she looked over the assorted chairs in the courtyard to see into the dining room. Lupin was in there somewhere, probably. She didn’t want to meet him in the throes of a huge crying jag about what a shitty person she was to even want to get to know him, so Elodie shouldered her bag and started power walking away.

For some reason, each step she took felt symbolic; if she was this upset about everything, did that mean she should fess up to Albus? Should she maintain the lie, but ask to be placed elsewhere? Should she  _ leave _ , before she even made Lupin’s introduction?

“Noooooo,” Elodie wailed, far enough from the building that she was sure she wouldn’t be heard.

Someone  _ had _ heard her, though. Just as Elodie was looking for a place she could crumple onto in a heap of misery, a great big shaggy black dog came running toward her, hackles raised. Seeing him did not give her much comfort--here was Sirius Black, proof that, despite her high minded possible intentions of extricating herself from her amazing predicament, she’d already made waves of change in this world. To Dumbledore, to Slughorn, and to Sirius Black.

“Oh!  _ oh _ ,” she said out loud, because instead of sitting down and regarding her with mild interest, the shaggy black dog came right up to her and nosed her hand into a caress over his head. “You should go back to your guard duty, you big beautiful creature. I’m a miserable snot machine.”

Instead of listening to her, Padfoot snuffled about in the grass around them and then jumped up on a rock a few yards away that she hadn’t noticed.

“You know just what I need, don’t you?” she said, walking over and looking at it. It was dry and elevated off the dewy underbrush. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to sit down and have a good long cry.” 

As soon as she sat down, the floodgates opened. It was one thing to have been anxious and doing her best over the past few days to try to learn spells--and to actually have the ability to  _ cast _ them! But to come to the realization that there was a chance that no amount of desperate preparation and studying could mitigate the damage she could do by being here--that was just too much to bear. But it wasn’t for herself that she was crying.

It was for Lupin, and to a lesser extent, Sirius Black, as well.

After a good many minutes of crying full out, with her hands covering her wet, messy face, Elodie lowered them to grab her handkerchief. That was when she saw that the black dog was still with her, sitting beside her rock, one paw resting a few inches from where she sat. She wiped her face off, twice, and looked sadly at the dog.

“I can’t change anything, Guardian,” she told him, twisting the soggy handkerchief in her lap. “It’s all already happened, you see--and there’s nothing I can tell him, nothing I can do for him to ease it! He’s one of the best people in this world, I can tell you that with confidence. And he’s suffered  _ so _ much, and it just keeps going. And I can’t see a way of helping him that doesn’t bear the chance that by trying to, I would add to it, you see. So I feel like I should just… what? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do!”

In response, Padfoot crouched down and leapt up to settle beside her on the rock, his warm body pressing against her side. This was so wholly unexpected that Elodie found herself crying harder. She didn’t dare say anything about his own situation, because despite Sirius being a reckless character, she’d never thought of him as dim. Even if he wasn’t as perceptive as Elodie thought Remus was, everyone, fictional or otherwise, saw themselves as the center of their own stories. He might see connections simply by virtue of having lived them.

She wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. She lifted her legs up to cry into them, but instead she slipped, sliding down the rock into a position where she was leaning against it, next to Padfoot’s head. He stood up when she fell, but she just smiled thinly.

“I’m okay,” she said. It hadn’t hurt much. He licked her cheek, and then shook his head a bit. “Salty, yeah? Just sit, I’m okay, I just need to think a while.” Now, Elodie felt a bit cleansed, but she did feel like she needed to talk everything out. 

“I have a friend, you see,” she told Padfoot, fudging the truth a bit. “He’s had a rough life, but it hasn’t broken him. In fact, he’s still as smart and intuitive as he would have been if none of that tragedy that ever happened to him, and he just trudges on, you know? But he deserves a good life. One without all the shit that has and will happen to him!” At this, silent tears started streaming again, but they were without the violence of her earlier sobbing. “I want to help him, but I’m not… well, I mean, no one is perfect, but, I feel like he deserves to be surrounded by good, decent people. And I don’t know if I qualify, Guardian. I don’t know if even my very best is worth it, worth maybe making things worse.” She sniffled and sat in silence for a bit. 

Spoken aloud, if she’d been the shoulder cried on instead of the confider, she’d have told the person that they were being foolish. Even with the dubious benefit of foresight more accurate than most, she was selling her potential friendship short. A stranger who treated him like the good man she knew him to be, without pre-judging him, well that was valuable, wasn’t it? And eventually she’d have to tell him about the Wolfsbane. That she’d agreed to brew it without knowing him couldn’t help but be a point in her favor, showing she wasn’t prejudiced against werewolves.

Mellie had also agreed, and she didn’t have any of the information that Elodie did. So even if she was ripped away from this world unexpectedly, she wasn’t leaving someone she didn’t trust in her place, was she?

A wet muzzled nudge broke her free from her reverie. Padfoot had nosed at her handkerchief, and in response, Elodie shook it out and wiped off her face. Immediately, she was rewarded by a huge lick from chin to forehead.

“Yikes! I don’t know which is better, snot or slobber,” Elodie said, wiping her face again. She imagined that the dog looked a bit affronted, but that was probably because she knew he wasn’t actually a dog. “Well, thank you for your company,” she said, standing up. “And even if I don’t fully belong here, I can do this, so that’s almost reward enough right there,” she said, casting a drying spell on her clothes. The grass had been pretty wet, but now she was properly dry and warm, and while Elodie did feel a bit like she’d been peeled from the inside out, she did feel better.

“Am I all right to give you a pat?” she asked, seeing that Padfoot was about to jump down. He sat down as soon as she finished speaking, and she petted his head very gently. “You’re a very good dog. I’ll probably see you tomorrow,” she said, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his head. After all, neither dog nor man had probably had a bath in longer than she cared to imagine.

It was time to redirect her thoughts toward the books she wanted to get from the library. Maybe one on the full history of magic, if such a thing existed? She figured that that sort of book probably differed between countries, but reading about the origins of Hogwarts or even some of what Albus Dumbledore had done to defeat the wizard Grindelwald might be fascinating. She stuck her arm through the two straps of her backpack and headed back toward the path that led to the library, shaking off the last vestiges of her crying fit as she did so.

  
_ I’m here now.  _ Elodie told herself. _ I’m sure there were many times where Lupin had to soldier on in the face of uncertainty. If he can do it, so can I. _




**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to the rare owl that Slughorn owns! https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4993342/Incredibly-rare-British-Ino-owl-seen-near-Durham.html


	4. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions aren't, like, the *very most important*, right?
> 
> Right??
> 
> (Elodie meets Remus Lupin)

Elodie smiled as she turned to the next page of her book. She hadn’t really expected to enjoy reading about history (as opposed to watching a documentary about it), but this book had a different feel to it, probably because when she’d first learned of some of this stuff, it was fictional. After reading some of the earlier historical events like the creation of Quidditch, Elodie decided she wanted to jump ahead to the First Wizarding War. 

There was an obliqueness to the writing that had initially been quite frustrating to Elodie until she realized what was going on: she knew about many of these events--such as Dumbledore’s hand-delivered invitation for Tom Riddle to attend Hogwarts--because she’d read about them recounted first hand or viewed in a Pensieve memory. The writing approach of (supposedly) clinical observation was a huge contrast to reading the Harry Potter series itself. When it came to the History of Quidditch, the events were so ridiculous that even the academic tone wasn’t enough to suck all enjoyment away, but as soon as Elodie started to read about things she had a more intimate knowledge of, her enjoyment turned to disgust thanks to the author’s editorializing. 

He obviously thought Dumbledore had grown senile by the early 1970s, which meant that Brandin Bartolemeo-Banks spent far too many words on what he thought Dumbledore  _ should _ have done rather than what he actually did. He also spent time foreshadowing events that both he and Elodie knew would happen, but in a way that implied the participants in those events should have been able to see what was coming, too. His extollations of James and Lily Potter’s many virtues were tiresome, and this put Elodie in a sour mood, since she’d been looking forward to reading about Harry’s parents, but not in this syrupy-sweet, unrealistic way.

Elodie had started her reading that afternoon out in the courtyard on her very favorite chair, the one that looked like stone, but  _ felt _ like it was made of enchanted pillows, non-sticky marshmallows, or something similarly fluffy. The sweet smell of summer flowers drifted in the air, stronger when the cool breeze would blow. She had mentioned the breeze to Winnifred last week only to be told that it was the result of a highly complex spell and enchantment combination, exclusively ‘installed’ by very specialized Environment Wizards. The idea that there was a magical way to make an outdoor space more livable by enchanting a cool breeze to blow through it was just one of the things she loved discovering in this new reality.

As soon as she got to the part in the book where the Potters were warned their lives might be in danger, Elodie found the comfort of her chair oppressive. She stood instead, leaning against a sturdy metal grate that supported her favorite climbing vine flowers. When the author started to opine about the values and character of possible Secret Keepers, Elodie started to pace. When he proclaimed the pure, blameless perfection of Peter Pettigrew, she started muttering under her breath. When, with thick prose and much lamentation, the chosen Secret Keeper was revealed to be Sirius Black, a man who was quoted to be ‘the most evil wizard to ever deceive his innocent friends,’ Elodie threw the book across the courtyard.

Seething with rage, she cast a spell she’d learned the day before, one that formed an impervious shield around a small item. When the spell’s glow told her it was successful, Elodie took a deep, fortifying breath. 

Then, she set the book on fire.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, you utterly useless, unreliable  _ asshole _ !” she shouted at the book, wishing she could buy her own copy just to set it on fire for real. Unfortunately, that would just put more money in the author’s pockets. 

“Sure, you didn’t know what really happened, and okay,” Elodie made an exaggerated ‘fine’ gesture, her hands swinging out beside her with the force of her anger, sending her wand flying. “ _ OKAY, _ so you  _ couldn’t _ know what actually happened, but making up things about someone and JUDGING them because of what you think they’ve done is just about the most unfair--” She broke off, her fury amplified by the simple fact that Brandin Bartolomeo-Banks didn’t know, couldn’t know, and  _ wouldn’t ever know _ who the real rat had been. 

It wasn’t fair, and it never would be. 

Elodie clenched her fists, raised her head, and did her best to keep the anguished noise her heart was making from sounding as loud in the courtyard as it did inside her head.

“This seems like the kind of situation for which the Howler was invented,” a male voice said mildly from behind her.

Instead of making her angrier (not that such a thing was possible), the comment actually helped to puncture the bubble of rage she’d surrounded herself with. 

“That’s probably the nicest way anyone’s ever told me I was having a temper tantrum.” Elodie admitted without turning around. Her throat hurt, but at least she could speak without screaming. This was progress.

“Unfairness strikes all ages equally, I think,” the man said. “Adults simply hide it better.”

“Most of the time, anyway,” Elodie said, turning around and smiling apologetically. She caught a glimpse of light brown hair on a tall man’s head before she remembered that she hadn’t cast anything to protect the grass the book had landed on. “Shit, I bet this is how forest fires start,” she remarked wryly as she looked to see where she’d lost her wand ( _ rookie mistake!  _ she reprimanded herself.  _ Never lose your wand, Elodie! _ ). “Just a bunch of angry amateur historians setting horrible books on fire.”

“ _ Detrahe!” _

Before she had the chance to grab her wand, the man’s spell smothered the flame, but not in the way she’d seen taught in her textbook. Instead of conjuring up water to drown the fire, his spell seemed to have taken away the air around it, smothering it into nothingness in a split second. 

“Thank you,” Elodie said, blushing as she saw the man’s gaze following her as she snatched her wand from the ground. She felt a strong urge to explain herself, but quashed it. As luck would have it, though, he was as quick with his memory as he was with his spells. The man nodded in the direction of her wand and spoke.

“I’m sure it just slipped out of your hand when you were waving your arms.”

Elodie winced. She’d started waving her hands around  _ before _ she had started screaming, so that meant the man had probably witnessed a lot more tantrum than she’d hoped. “How much did you see?” she asked warily.

“Don’t worry--you were already angry when I came into the courtyard,” he assured her. This wasn’t actually very reassuring. Elodie looked over at him, but the late afternoon sun was creating a kind of backlit halo around him, making his features hard to read.

“Was I screaming yet?” she prompted. She could see him shake his head. “Well, thank goodness first impressions aren’t everything, I guess!” she said with as elegant a shrug as possible. Then, she held out her hand, hoping that she wasn’t missing a key point of wizarding world greeting etiquette.

“Hi, I’m Elodie,” she said. To her relief, instead of being standoffish, the man stepped forward and took her hand in his larger, warmer one.

“I’m Remus.” He smiled at her.

“Oh  _ no! _ ” Elodie said without thinking. Then, before he could pull his hand away in confusion, she reached over with her free hand and clasped his with both. “Wait, that came out wrong, which seems to be a talent for me, today. I…” She looked up at him, seeing what she hadn’t been able to see before: the scars on his face, the kindness in his eyes, the shabbiness of his clothing. This was Remus Lupin, probably her most important first impression, and she was massively  _ fucking it up. _

“Here’s your hand back,” she said awkwardly, pushing her arms forward as she released her grip, as if letting his hand drop would have somehow been  _ more _ rude than never letting go in the first place. She was afraid to look at him, knowing she’d see a well-earned uncomfortable expression on his face. “Albus told me about you. I’d been hoping to meet you in a more… I mean…” Finally, Elodie did look up. “This wasn’t ideal.”

Remus ACTUAL Lupin leaned over and said, in a near-whisper, “Would you like to start over?”

“Yes,” Elodie said, loving the spark of amusement in his eyes. “But I’ll immediately ruin it. It’s kind of my superpower.”

“You are in dire need of a training montage,” Remus told her gravely. At that moment, Elodie was pretty sure she could join Anne Shirley in knowing how it felt to be incandescently happy. Here he was, flesh and blood, and every bit as clever and adroit as she’d read him to be. A flash image of the Marauders as teenagers in a Muggle cinema watching Rocky made her desperately swallow a giggle-hiccup. Sirius Black would totally have started a popcorn fight, she’d bet Mellie’s whole purse full of Galleons on it. As Elodie struggled with her composure, Remus walked over to a nearby chair and settled into it with ease.

“You should reconsider your offer, you know,” she told him. She was fighting the urge to grin so widely her lips might split. “You’re riding high on this first impression thing. Would you really want to start from zero?”

“After you just told me your superpower? No,” he shook his head, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. “I’m comfortable with my odds.”

“All right, your loss,” Elodie told him. She turned and walked over to the path leading to the library, telling herself to calm down and focus on this second chance. After passing a few feet beyond the gate, she turned and started back toward him, her heart racing at least four beats for every step. As she neared him, she saw that he’d grabbed the book she had thrown and was flipping through it. She felt a sick sense of dread that Remus would be able to figure out what she’d been reading before her freak out. If that happened, he would surely conclude that Albus Dumbledore had been sharing deep secrets about the original Order of the Phoenix to someone who was practically a stranger. 

Elodie slowed, scanning the ratio of pages on either side of the ones he was looking at. He was past the Quidditch histories, past Grindelwald, and probably past Tom Riddle’s re-birth as Lord Voldemort. Suddenly, she felt a powerful surge of guilt. She’d known she was going to end her self-imposed exile and possibly run across him at Hollyfield soon, hadn’t she? Why had she chosen a book that held such personal grief for him? How could she call herself a die-hard fan of his character now!

“Hello,” Elodie forced herself to say, her voice sounding strained and inauthentic. _I_ _really do have a killer superpower!_ she thought to herself.

“Hello,” Remus replied. She looked at him closely and saw a repressed smile in the way his slightly upturned mouth was trembling. He didn’t say anything else, and somehow she just  _ knew _ he was waiting for her to fumble her own introduction. To even the odds, she walked closer to his chair, forcing him to look away from the book and up at her to remain polite.

“It’s a nice day for reading, but I have to tell you.” Elodie leaned over conspiratorially. “That’s a really terrible book.”

“Is it, now?” Remus said, looking away from her to the book in his hand, turning it over to the back.

With a flash of inspiration, Elodie lifted her wand and cast the spell she’d been using to make impermanent notes on the walls in her room. A quote appeared on the dust jacket in elegant calligraphy that wrote itself as she spoke the words under her breath:

 

‘“Utter shit, I have to say.” - Elodie Merriman, disgruntled book critic’

 

There was complete silence for what felt like a full minute until Lupin burst out laughing. In her rush of relief that she hadn’t set fire to his lap underneath the book or something, Elodie couldn’t stop herself from speaking up about it.

“Good Lord, you held out on me long enough! I thought sure I’d screwed up the spell somehow!”

“Not at all,” Remus said, patting at the quotation on the book cover. “It was brilliant. I’m pleased to meet you, Elodie. I’m Remus.” He stood, swapping hands with the book to hold his out in greeting. As she took his hand to shake it, he added, “Also pleased to say that I am not an historian in any capacity.”

“You seem far too normal to be able to write that drivel,” Elodie said, managing to restrain her hysterical grin into a smile that was much more socially reasonable. She rushed on to say something else that wouldn’t leave the man stuck thanking her for complimenting him on his normality.  _ Good LORD, Elodie. _ “Besides, Albus said you had been a professor at Hogwarts, so that’s prestigious enough, I’d say!”

“Yes, thank you,” Lupin said, and she realized she’d still screwed up by reminding him that he  _ had _ been a professor. It was time to extricate herself for the sake of his sanity.

“I’ll take that back, then, and set it in the ‘naughty’ pile to go back to the library in the morning,” Elodie said, inwardly facepalming at herself  _ again _ . “Life is far too short to waste time on bad books.”

“It is indeed,” Lupin said, holding up a small volume that she hadn’t noticed earlier. It looked like he’d been planning to sit outside and read, just as she often found herself doing (or had, before she had deliberately hidden from him for these past few days).

“Enjoy, and it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin,” Elodie managed to say before turning and rushing inside. The dining room was nearly all windows, so she had to wait until she was in the entryway of Hollyfield and safely out of sight before she could turn around, cover her face with her hands, and let herself squeak just a little bit. 

 

8888888888888888

Instead of going up to her room, Elodie went down to her potions room. She made a mental note to look up whether there was a class of potion or recipe that used one’s emotions as part of the ingredient list. She definitely felt like her emotions were tangible enough to count as a potions component lately! Her reservations about staying at Hollyfield House were still strong, but she felt a bit better after getting the tears out two days before. She’d spent a quiet day practicing spells and reading in her room yesterday, all the while keeping up with her obligations to Lupin’s potion.

Today, she wanted to make the preparations to set up a second table and cauldron for sustainability of the Wolfsbane. The various books she’d read on the potion (with the giant book from Albus being, of course, the most comprehensive and easy to understand) had been very clear about the quality of the cauldron and the timing of the transfer. She’d had a fun evening last night with some conjured cauldrons ( _ never _ to be used in actual brewing, of course!) and water, juice, and a thicker mixture she’d made with various conjured foods and liquids. She’d cast the transferring spell multiple times, and even once had been able to concentrate on the stasis containing spell long enough to hover the stuff in midair to examine the way it held together in transit.

She still planned to ask Slughorn for help for the first time, though.

For the first time since she’d arrived, Elodie wished she’d made more of an effort getting to know someone else more closely. There was nothing for it--she was going to have to head out to an apothecary. She’d asked around at breakfast, and had been told that there wasn’t a reason to head anywhere other than Diagon Alley. Ironically, Harry’s mistake in the first book where he misspoke on his first journey through the Floo network gave Elodie a great deal of comfort. That mental hurdle was easily jumped. 

The other was more substantial. She’d spent over a week here, now, and she’d mastered quite a few spells, hadn’t exploded one of the most dangerous potions there was, and hadn’t died after eating some of her own conjured foods. But, Diagon Alley was a far cry from Hollyfield House. Would someone figure out she didn’t belong? Was there a Muggle alarm?! 

“There is  _ not _ a Muggle alarm, Elodie,” she told herself out loud. She was certain there had been at least one of the books where Hermione’s parents were awkwardly gaping at everything they saw in Diagon Alley, or if it hadn’t been that family, it had been another. “Avoidance isn’t a good look,” she said to herself, feigning confidence. 

It wasn’t a good look, but its cousin was distraction--and Elodie had a letter to write. As she walked up the stairs to her room she suddenly stopped and looked around. Did everyone else Apparate everywhere? She hardly ever saw another resident on the stairs. It was an interesting question, but hardly one she could ask without seeming extremely odd.

She wasn’t ready to Apparate from the staircase to her own bedroom, much less to Diagon Alley! She didn’t want to go alone, either. If only she could ask the one person she trusted would be polite enough to either say yes, or demur without thinking badly of her. The truth was that Elodie was  _ not _ ready to tell Remus that she was the person making his Wolfsbane. She hoped he would understand that she wanted to get to know him as if she were any other person, and not someone who knew secrets he hadn’t been given a choice in telling.

  
  


> Dear Mr. Slughorn,
> 
> I hope you don’t mind if I tell you that, upon reading your letter, I started to cry in happiness. Your kindness and generosity are much appreciated, sir! 
> 
> I would be honored to accept your help in this process. Primarily, for your offer to complete the brewing process with the Aconite, which was something I was quite concerned about. Thank you so much! I am making plans to buy additional supplies for the second batch, and I wanted to ask you if there is anything I would need to buy to perform the spell you mentioned to speed up brewing?
> 
> I understand this might be expensive, but Albus Dumbledore has already offered to provide anything I’m unable to get myself, and I feel like this would be something he would see as crucial to the care of our friend.
> 
> As for travel and life circumstances, I am a resident here at Hollyfield House for the foreseeable future (though I don’t plan to live here forever). I am new to the UK (my mother lives in America), and thanks to the circumstances with my mentor I wrote about previously, I have few friends, hardly any possessions, and no reasons to travel. I am rebuilding my life, essentially.
> 
> The Wolfsbane is in the ‘stirring’ phase for three more days. It is on day 11--not yet a third of the way through. I would need your help with the Aconite in just over two weeks.
> 
> Thank you again, I am trying not to be effusive, but I’m profoundly grateful.
> 
> ~Elodie Merriman
> 
> (feel free to call me Elodie!)

It was almost time for dinner, and Elodie tried to tamp down her excitement at the thought of seeing Lupin again. She visited Hollyfield’s tiny Owlery and sent off the letter before she spent time agonizing over how she’d phrased things, or whether she should add more explanation of her circumstances. Elodie tried to tell herself that as per his first letter to her, Horace Slughorn seemed perfectly happy with her questions, and that she should leave their correspondence in her ‘win’ column. 

Whether or not Lupin would go in that column would probably depend on their next meeting, as the first was still up in the air. She was more than a little excited about dinner, and not just because she was looking forward to having the chance to eat well-prepared,  _ warm _ foods again. Lupin had a non-zero chance of appearing there, reminding Elodie that, in a way, she was grateful for her self-imposed exile. Her love for ‘Remus Lupin, fictional character’ needed to be tempered by the fact of his reality in this universe. She knew she’d have felt like she had a responsibility to show him around, given that she felt she ‘knew’ him already from the book series, and because she really did know her way around. This mindset could have led to an awkward, uncomfortable first impression (her inner voice wanted to know how that differed  _ at all _ to how their meeting had actually gone). By now, however, he had undoubtedly met some of the other residents, found his own way around the boarding house, and settled in, all without her well-meaning interference.

_ Well, it’s time to blow that all to hell, _ Elodie thought to herself as she walked through the doorway and into the brightly-lit room. An older woman she’d sat with a few times called out to her. She was seated at a table at the far side of the room, and as Elodie walked in her direction, she saw to her great delight that Lupin was also seated at that table.

“Elodie! I’m glad to see you, dear,” the woman (was her name Ruth? Ruthann? Elodie always felt guilty when she couldn’t remember) said as she came close enough to hear. “I was starting to worry that you’d stopped coming!”

“Thank you. I didn’t realize anyone would notice,” Elodie said. “I had a project that I timed very imperfectly to occur right at dinner.” This was a half-truth at worst, and she felt it wasn’t the same as lying. 

“Well sit down, sit down!” Possibly Ruth said, waving her beringed hand at Elodie impatiently. “I’ve snagged the newest boarder at our table!” The woman started talking about the last few dinners, the ones Elodie had missed, and what had been remarkable or unremarkable about them. By the time she turned back to perform an introduction, Elodie had nearly finished preparing her plate. “Oh, I forgot myself!” Ruth(ann?) said, chuckling at herself. “Elodie Merriman, meet Remus Lupin.”

Elodie looked up from the mashed potatoes she was shoveling onto her plate at record speed.

“Thank you, Ruth,” Remus said, smiling at the older woman. “We met earlier, in the courtyard.”

Ruth snorted derisively. “Met properly? With full names and a handshake?” She glared at them both with a look that only the older generation can muster, all righteous indignation and fond condescension.

“We did. Just first names, though,” Elodie protested. “His hand was warm.”

As soon as she said this, she realized what an odd observation it was. She’d just been trying to prove that she  _ had _ done a proper handshake, but the statement was pure awkward Elodie. She facepalmed and tried to hide behind the basket of rolls that had been passed her way. When she chanced a glance in Lupin’s direction, she caught a glimpse of his amused expression.

“Well.” Ruth sounded only slightly mollified, but she deigned to let the moment pass, gathering herself back into the role of a kindly matron as she asked Remus a polite question. “You were teaching at Hogwarts this past school year just gone, I thought I heard?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered. “Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

As the two spoke about Hogwarts, Elodie allowed herself to observe, making ‘I’m totally listening’ faces and interested noises where appropriate. She hadn’t really let herself study him earlier in the day, concerned as she was with keeping herself from looking like a complete angry idiot. 

He was tall, even when seated, with a posture that hinted that he was uncomfortable with his own prominence, despite being engaged in easy conversation. Elodie couldn’t remember if the books had stated his eye color, but it wasn’t easy to discern. In the courtyard, she’d seen them as hazel, but in the light of the dining room, his eyes looked almost golden, or at the very least, a yellow green. The scars on his face were either influenced by a spell or simply not as prominent as described in the books, and Elodie wondered if Remus had deliberately cast a glamour spell on himself because of the need to meet new people and make a good impression. He didn’t strike her as a vain person in the books, but he did come across always as emotionally intelligent. If he had indeed done something to obscure his scars, that would certainly track as a practical kind of  ‘fitting in’ choice for Lupin. 

He needed a haircut. Even though they’d just met, Elodie could see that Remus had a habit of brushing his hair from his eyes unconsciously, an action that seemed to increase if he was interested in what he was talking about. This definitely seemed to be the case when it came to teaching; she ‘tuned back in’ to the conversation to hear Ruth ask about Harry Potter, and whether he really was at school like the papers had said. 

At this, Elodie saw Remus’s demeanor change. He became a bit more solemn and his movements slowed, as if he had become aware of how his mannerisms and behavior might be observed by others. She reminded herself that the scenes at the end of her favorite book had been particularly traumatic for Remus, all the more so because he had to be told ( _ HAD _ he been told? She certainly hoped so) about some of the most important events that had happened after the full moon had risen. Those very scenes had only been  _ days _ ago. In light of that, she decided he  _ was _ using magic to obscure his scars, since she thought the books had said he’d gotten injured in the fight with Padfoot.

“Is it true that Harry might have been in  _ danger _ while at Hogwarts this year? I read such fantastic nonsense in the papers, you know,” Ruth said, turning away from Remus as she spoke to cram a precariously loaded spoonful of food into her mouth.

Elodie wasn’t about to force Remus to ‘polite’ his way through this conversation, not after what he’d just been through.

“Oh, Mr. Lupin!” she exclaimed, dropping her fork in an attempt to catch Ruth’s attention and keep her from seeing the sick look in Remus’s eyes. “Speaking of the papers--you  _ had _ to have attended at least one Gryffindor Quidditch match while at Hogwarts, right? Is Harry Potter as good a flier as some have been reporting?”

Elodie hoped like heck there had been actual reporting about that, but if there hadn’t, she hoped like  _ hell _ that Remus didn’t know that.

“Please, I did introduce myself as Remus,” he reminded her gently. “Yes, he’s very good. Has been on his house team for three years already. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made Captain in a year or so.”

She was going to need to look up spells to curtail blushing.  _ Nonverbal _ ones. For his part, Remus ( _ REMUS!!! _ Her internal fangirls were having swooning contests, and her mind only held so many fainting couches with which to contain them) looked a little surprised that Elodie would have changed the subject so quickly, and she suspected this was because Ruth’s question was a fairly juicy one. She just barely curtailed her instinct to make a comment about Harry’s father also having been great at Quidditch, because those associations weren’t going to do him any good, either. Elodie ran through a million options to continue the conversation, most of them outright failures. She didn’t know what school Mellie went to in America, she didn’t want to bring up anything about Harry Potter’s life before Hogwarts, nor much about his life  _ during, _ since she knew how fraught life had been there at times. Asking after the DADA position was probably risky, as Ruth might want to know if he planned to go back (was it common knowledge that the position was cursed?).

“You’re on a little memory trip, there,” Remus said, catching her attention by leaning forward slightly, his action completely lost on Ruth, who was gabbing with some of their other table-mates.

“I was a know-it-all at school, so, fond memories,” Elodie said wryly. Her next comment was one from the heart, directing the conversation toward safer subjects almost by accident. “I wish I’d had a headmaster like Dumbledore, though.”

“He was my headmaster too,” Remus said. They sat there and ate the rest of their meal in silence, and Elodie hoped he was thinking about his school years, because every so often he would smile as though remembering a happy experience. For her part, Elodie thought about what he could be remembering, ones that weren’t pictured in the books but surely happened, like the moment he found out his friends had become Animagi, or the first evening of his first transformation on school grounds, when Dumbledore himself walked him to the special passage in the Whomping Willow. 

She supposed that she probably looked as though she were remembering her own fun times at school. Once or twice she caught his eye and they both smiled, the action as easy and uncomplicated as she could have hoped it would be. Elodie caught snippets of what Ruth was lecturing another resident about, but while she usually hated eating in silence, today was different. Today, the silence was interesting, because of the company she was privileged enough to keep. She hoped she’d be able to share a table with him again soon, even if all they did was smile periodically.

When it was time to clear away plates and platters, Elodie rose and started gathering her table-mates’ dishes and silverware, as she usually did. She bumped hands with Remus, who was doing the same, and they again shared an easy smile.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask, what do you do for a living, Elodie?” Remus asked politely. The question threw her a little off balance, and he took that as an opportunity to lift her gathered plates from her to add to his pile. She didn’t mind all that much, as she usually had to take two trips, but she still narrowed her eyes at him.

“I see what you did, there,” Elodie told him. “Thank you just the same.” She had to settle for the cup stack, and she followed him to the kitchen with the cups and a handful of soiled silverware. When she came back to gather her sweater from her chair, she saw he had paused beside it.

“I am sorry if I missed your answer,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to ask a question and then not wait for the reply.”

“Oh,” Elodie said, disconcerted again. She didn’t want to tell him she brewed potions for a living, because if Albus hadn’t shared who the Potion Master was who would provide him Wolfsbane, that might be enough to hint that she was that person. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit she knew his furry little secret. On top of that was the trauma that Mellie had suffered in the course of earning that certification. Not having experienced it herself didn’t mean she wasn’t influenced by it, and Elodie was ostensibly here at Hollyfield House recuperating after the loss of everything she owned, and every friend she’d ever had, save for Albus.

Remus was patiently waiting for a reply, and Elodie found she didn’t really have one. She settled for asking his pardon.

“I’m sorry, my answer is complicated. Did Albus speak to you about knowing someone who was staying here?”

“Yes, actually,” Remus said, the surprise evident on his face. Elodie was burning with curiosity about what was said, but given the lack of a shuttered, closed-down response on his part, she hoped that meant Albus hadn’t linked his friend at the House with the potion. “Oh, but he didn’t go into specifics,” Remus rushed to add.

“Good,” Elodie said, instinctively. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Remus looked concerned, but not offended. “It’s--”

“Complicated,” he finished with her. “You don’t have to--”

It was Elodie’s turn to interrupt. “I don’t mind. Just, another time. And maybe with some coffee.”

“Whenever you like,” he said, and then made an odd face. It was as though he had surprised himself with a conclusion, but she was a few paces behind, mentally, and whatever it was, she didn’t catch it. “Good night, then?”

“Yes, it was nice to officially meet you,” she said.

“Likewise,” Remus said, and turned to leave, the slightly befuddled expression still on his face. Elodie didn’t follow him through the same door, instead heading out to her favorite courtyard to decompress. She felt like she was going to explode with fangirlish energy. But what was the meaning of his odd behavior right as they said good night to each other?

Elodie buried her face in the lush flowerbed that grew atop the retaining wall in the courtyard and  _ grinned _ so hard her face hurt. It wasn’t until she was going back over their conversation in her own bed later that she realized a possible reason for Remus’s strange expression.

She’d suggested coffee, and a deep discussion. At a particular time, in the future. And he’d agreed.

“Great,” Elodie said to herself in the dark. “I’ve awkwarded him into something that looks just like a  _ date _ !”

She had a lot of trouble sleeping that night.


	5. Curse and Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faced with the choice of forcing Remus to endure another full moon without Wolfsbane or casting a risky charm to accelerate her potion, Elodie chooses the latter.

In retrospect, if Apparition would have helped her look less like a complete and utter mess that next morning, she might have tried it and risked splinching. Maybe.

She’d done her 12 hour stirring after dinner, but waking up had been an exercise in Olympic-level self-discipline. She missed the 7:45 alarm, and it was only because 8:00 wasn’t the exact, on the nose time for stirring that she managed it at all. That was how she’d happened to be dressed in the white pullover flowy dress she’d made fun of in Mellie’s closet (it was the easiest full outfit to put on), with mis-matched socks, untied trainers, and her hair in the gold medalist of messy buns when she walked out of the potion room at 8:05.

The desperate race not to ruin  _ everything _ had gotten her adrenaline flying, and she’d essentially burst into hysterical tears of relief once she’d succeeded in keeping the stir exactly the right way (as per her Tome of Awesomeness, as she’d started to call the  _ Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall _ book--TOAm for short). So it was with tear tracks on her face and a dress too flimsy for the morning chill that Elodie ran into Remus Lupin on the stairs she’d never seen anyone else on.

Of  _ course. _

“Good… morning,” Lupin said, looking at her for a massively pregnant pause during which he presumably took in the wealth of evidence that Elodie was Not a Morning Person.

“It’s the  _ very best _ of superpowers. It’s still going on Day Two,” Elodie said, suddenly seized by a powerful urge to giggle. To her delight, he was similarly afflicted, and the two of them stood on the landing and laughed for a long moment.

“If it makes you feel better, this may simply be a matter of definition,” he told her after clearing his throat twice in an obvious attempt to gather his composure. “We’re still under 24 hours, I think.”

“You are as generous as you are intelligent,” she told him. He looked a little surprised. “It’s a good thing, too. Memory charms are definitely out of reach if I’m failing at sock matching, so you’re off the hook.”

“I hadn’t noticed the socks,” he said, starting back down the stairs behind her. “Except, erm,” he called up after a few seconds. When she turned to see what he needed, he pointed at her feet. “Seems like your hairbrush hitched a ride.”

She reached down to find one of the bristles tucked into a hole in the lace near her ankle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she swore.

“Let’s try for ‘good afternoon,’ later?” he suggested. Without waiting for her response, he jogged down the rest of the stairs, and headed out the front door.

Slughorn’s owl was waiting for her when she opened the door to her room. She conjured up a treat for it and sat down by the desk to slide the parchment free from its tiny foot. It seemed to really love her dress--it hopped from lace patch to lace patch on her lap as it ate the treats. The white of the dress really did match quite nicely with its pristine feathers, and its excitement was soothing to her. She didn’t go as far as to pat his head, though--she felt that was presuming too much.

Once the owl was done with its treats, it sat down next to the picture of Elodie’s mother and tucked its head down into its feathers, looking for all the world like it was about to drift off to sleep. Elodie supposed that must mean it was instructed to wait for a reply, so she stretched the scroll out and started reading.

 

> Dear Elodie,
> 
> I am touched by your gratitude, my dear! Though I haven’t spent much time out in society for many years, I still pride myself on the ability to see the value in my companions and associates, and I feel confident in saying that I would be pleased to call you either. 
> 
> Now, to specifics. I’d be happy to provide a cauldron and accoutrements for the second batch, as part of my assistance. I have more cauldrons than any wizard could need in a lifetime, I can assure you! I have already sent Albus a missive to tell him about my plans to help, and thus I can arrange to obtain the Aconite needed for the last phase of the potion from the stores at Hogwarts.
> 
> Wolfsbane is quite a resilient potion once you get the dual cauldrons working. It’s all about keeping one in the ‘preparation’ stage, and one in the ‘activation’ stage. The latter stage is more volatile, but I’m an old hand at it, and I’ll show you all of my tricks.
> 
> As for speeding the brewing--you asked about reagents, and I’ll tell you, that’s tricky. It’s a bit of a trade-off kind of charm, with a curse component. I’d rather explain it to you in person. 
> 
> I have told Ina to stay and wait for your response. If you do want to go ahead with the speed boost, I’ll help you perform it (it is a two person spell). The potion will then be sped to the time needed to add the Aconite, which I was already prepared to assist with. Perfect!
> 
> Simply send along a roll with a yes or no to this question: Might I come tomorrow? If it’s too early, just say no, and we’ll organize a better time. Just be aware that the speed up won’t work properly after the 14th day.
> 
> I’ll look for Ina!
> 
> Horace

 

A quick look at her sketched, makeshift calendar overlaid with the potion countdown told Elodie it was the 12th day today. She carefully cut a small roll of parchment and wrote ‘Yes, tomorrow then. Thank you, Horace. ~Elodie.’

When she looked up toward where his owl Ina had been dozing, she found that it was already standing, wide awake, making little tippy tap stomps as though impatient to be going.

“You are a strange, strange creature, Ina,” Elodie told it after she’d affixed Slughorn’s letter. Then she conjured a fourth owl treat, and held out her hand. Ina hopped in, snatched it up, and hopped up and down once. She hoped that meant it approved of her, because afterwards, Ina flew straight from her hand to the window and out into the fresh morning air.

While Elodie knew that she wasn’t on the hook to ever take the OWLs, she still wanted to master the spells she was practicing well enough to have a shot at doing well on them, hypothetically. So when she read in _The_ _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ that the real test of _Accio_ was in the distance between the object being summoned and the casting witch or wizard, she knew the length of her room just wasn’t going to cut it.

_ “Accio _ a reasonable outfit,” she joked. Nothing happened, but she knew that was because she needed to be able to picture exactly what she was trying to call for. She got up and, using her own two hands, Elodie changed into a pair of dark colored plain trousers and a deep green shirt with ruffles that just screamed ‘it’s 1990, and I wish I were  _ literally _ Winona Ryder.’

She dispensed with socks completely and chose her favorite sandals, instead. 

“I really wish I could Google ‘Hermione Granger’s favorite hair spells,’ but that would prooooobably be pushing it,” Elodie told herself. Instead, she stopped by her desk and added to her running, non-expiring To Do list, ‘Grooming Spellbook. Library first, but then see if there’s a magical Amazon delivery of some sort, because, yeah.’

Elodie conjured up a wide, shallow basket and put in a few things she could summon from one end of the courtyard to the other. The first thing she picked up was her hairbrush, because she wanted to know if it would have magically disentangled itself from her dress if  _ Accio’ _ d. Next came her journal, some library books to return, and the quill she hadn’t been brave enough to use yet. She left the corresponding inkpot behind.

The day was warmer now--her ridiculous white dress would have felt cool and comfortable at this point--and there already were a few residents sitting and enjoying the magical breeze. Elodie decided that a grown adult practicing a fourth year spell in the courtyard would be on par with her disastrous meeting with Lupin on the staircase that morning, so she set her hairbrush on the stone wall and started walking toward the library. She’d stop after a long ways and then summon it.

As she walked away, she wondered about the sorts of things that wouldn’t have made it into the book series. Were there witches and wizards with magical doctorates? If so, would someone with a MD ( _ ha, ha, Elodie, good one _ ) in Charms study how the spell navigated hazards on its way to the caster? She could almost picture Harry Potter summoning his Firebolt, the broom zigging and zagging around all of the obstacles between it and its owner. Elodie decided she would tangle one of the bristles of her brush into the empty basket at some point and cast so she could see for herself whether the brush would take the whole thing along with it.

About twenty paces past the gate, Elodie looked around for Padfoot. She hadn’t seen him for a day or two, but then, she’d seen Lupin spending time outdoors more often. If she had to guess, she’d say that Sirius was satisfied that Hollyfield House was a safe place for Remus, he was afraid Remus would be angry that Sirius was risking discovery as a fugitive, or some combination of the two. 

Elodie bent down and gently set her journal on a rock beside the path. She’d thought about conjuring things to summon, but those items probably wouldn’t have the strong memory component to them that the spell required. She walked a little farther, then took out the quill and threw it into the bushes. Once it fell out of sight, a thought occurred to her: that memory aspect was what kept people from being impaled by a thousand quills when they summoned a quill at school. The whole point was that you wanted  _ your _ item, after all.

“ _ Accio  _ quill!” she said, waving her wand precisely. The quill lifted out of the tangle of branches and leaves and soared over to her hand. She turned. “ _ Accio _ journal!” The journal came skittering just above the forest floor, tumbling end over end until launching into her hand with no more force than a tumble of a few inches. As soon as she touched it, of course, it started to convert its cover into the true appearance of her journal, but she dropped it into her basket before the process was complete. She stood and watched the little sections of cover somersault over each other for a few seconds before lifting her wand and casting  _ Accio _ again, this time for her brush.

Her brush slotted into her hand in less than three seconds, and Elodie stared at it in confusion.

“I think that’s my fault,” Lupin said, striding over to stand beside her. He pointed at the brush. “I recognized that as yours, and saw you walking away, and I’m afraid I just took it upon myself to catch up to you.”

“Oh! Well, thank you. I was, well. It’s hard to explain.”

As though her current life was genuinely a scripted television show, Padfoot bounded out from the forest and jumped up, repeatedly trying to lick Lupin’s face. He missed, seemingly on purpose because in the process he got wet doggie footprints all over Lupin’s shirt. 

“Hey, buddy, it’s been awhile!” Elodie said, hiding her impish expression behind the arm she held up to protect her face. For his part, Remus had rolled up his sleeves a few inches and was crouched down rubbing the great big black dog’s head. He was talking to Padfoot in a low tone, the kind of aggressive frustration one might expect to use with an undisciplined animal, albeit a very loved one. The words themselves were at a murmur, so she couldn’t make them out, much as she dearly wished to. Lupin’s clothes were quite ruined, at least until they could be washed. 

Even as she was thinking this, though, Remus stood up and waved his wand, speaking yet another spell she didn’t recognize. In a fascinating display, the dirty, muddy pawprints slid off of him as though his clothes had been charmed to literally repel dirt and water. Remus completed the action by brushing the remnants off of his belt buckle and the wrinkles of his pushed up sleeves. 

_ “ _ Don’t even think about it,” he told the dog, who was crouched down as if to start the whole debacle all over again. 

“Guardian! How naughty!” Elodie said, shaking her head in disappointment. 

“You—” Remus said, pointing at Padfoot but looking at Elodie. “You know him?  _ This _ dog?”

Elodie crouched down the way Remus had and scritched the top of the dog’s head. “He’s been hanging around the past few days, almost as if--”

She’d made a tactical mistake by being in licking range while telling Remus something that Sirius probably hadn’t wanted her to disclose. Sirius reached up and started licking her face with such force that she toppled over backwards.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Remus said. He took a giant step over the giant dog to help her up, basically lifting her against his body for a few seconds as he moved her away from Padfoot. He kept his eye on Padfoot at first, but when he turned toward her as he set her down, she was captivated by his physical strength as well as his look of genuine concern and kindness.

Being half in love with a fictional character was one thing, but this was sirens and lights territory.

“Are you all right? Padfoot can tend to be overpowering, especially when he’s  _ playful _ ,” Remus asked her, saying that last word through nearly clenched teeth as he glanced over in warning at his friend.

“Thank you,” Elodie managed to say. “I’m just a bit shaken--he never really approached me much before.” Suddenly, Elodie knew she had to use her knowledge of what was  _ really _ going on to give Remus an edge over his mischievous best friend. “He must be just so grateful to see his master.”

At this, though, Remus shot her a suspicious look for just a second, as though he recognized that was exactly what someone who knew what was going on would say as a joke. The look was gone in a split second, but she knew she was on notice about saying things that were too perceptive, from now on. 

“What I wish is that he would go somewhere safe and  _ stay there _ ,” Remus said. “I can’t keep him with me, and it’s not safe for him to be seen just out and wild.”

“What did you call him, Pad… what? I knew he wasn’t really named Guardian, but he just doesn’t look like a ‘doggie,’” Elodie said. She kept her head down as she held her hand out for Padfoot to sniff at, which he did, along with a sloppy lick.

“Padfoot, and he’s heading back to where he’s staying right now, aren’t you boy?” Remus said in what Elodie was certain was his best Professor in Charge voice.

Sirius made that whining, miserable dog noise that owners everywhere dread, but instead of sounding more angry, Remus actually crouched down, then sat on the forest floor, his head still slightly higher than Padfoot’s due to his standing height. Elodie wished she had a camera, but at the same time, she didn’t. This was hands down  _ the _ most private moment she’d ever witnessed in real life, and as much as it ripped her up to do it, she walked a little ways away from the two wizards to give them a little privacy.

As luck would have it, however, she could still hear them.

“Came to stake the place out, did you?” Remus was asking Padfoot. “And you didn’t want me to know, because you know how I’d feel about your safety. There are farms around here, you know. Farmers who have livestock they want to keep safe from huge, hulking, hungry beasts like you.” He stopped talking, and Elodie kept herself completely still, knowing that if she moved closer so soon, Remus would know she had been eavesdropping. Finally, she heard him speak again. “You’ve got enough food? Somewhere safe to sleep?” There was a pause. “Okay.” 

His volume dropped, and Elodie turned toward the library, skirting around the werewolf and the animagus. She’d be meeting with Horace tomorrow, and she wanted to see if he’d authored any books that might be available there. His contributions to the ‘TOAm’ that she’d found so far (a glossary seemed like something that Just Wasn’t Done for such ancient, respectable publications, she guessed) had been observational, so there was a chance that he’d written something along those lines. 

“Elodie?” Remus’s voice was distant, but he didn’t sound upset. She turned and waved rather than starting toward him. As she waited for him to walk over to her, Elodie realized that everything about him was attractive to her. Even the way he made his way toward her--by walking at an unhurried pace without looking apologetic for the amount of time it took--said something very appealing about his odd brand of self-effacing confidence.

“I didn’t mean to chase you off,” he said.

“You didn’t, I promise. I made some assumptions, and decided to let you two have a moment,” Elodie said, keeping her voice light and teasing. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I feel like you might not have been able to have a dog while you taught at Hogwarts.”

“Definitely not,” Remus said. “You’re right though. It’s been a while.”

A comment about Hagrid was right at the tip of Elodie’s tongue, but she held back. Instead, she went for a compliment.

“That spell you used was just flat-out cool,” she enthused. “I would have thought you turned your clothes hydrophobic, but does that count with mud, too? Is there enough water content?”

His eyebrows shot up at her use of the word ‘hydrophobic,’ but he shook his head. “It’s actually a variation on a repelling charm. Used to be used by lords on the battlefields to keep the blood off of their fancy clothes,” he told her. “Hydrophobic, though--that’s a good theory. Given that it’s a new-ish concept, there probably isn’t a lot of framework around it, spell-wise.” The admiration in his tone was clear, and Elodie felt like she could bask in the light of his approval forever, if she could.

“You’re off again,” he said, and she looked up at him, surprised to see both that they’d started walking slowly in the direction of the library, and that she’d tuned out and missed something he’d said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sheepish.

“Don’t be. I was just asking if you worked with science in your field.”

“You could technically say that, yes, but probably not in the way you’re asking. I’m definitely a practice girl, not so much with the theory,” she told him. While personally, she saw both baking and potions as two different sides of the same science-adjacent coin, she didn’t know if they were considered that way by people who were officially Potions Masters. Or bakers.

“Nice deflection,” Remus murmured. 

“I honestly hadn’t meant to,” she told him. That was mostly true, but the part left over had to do with feeling like a fraud, and that was directly related to the Wolfsbane. 

She looked up at him, happening to catch him looking over at the same time. Impulsively, she wanted to explain at least a little of why she was so secretive, even though he of all people had to know why such behavior was necessary sometimes. 

“The truth is, I feel kind of like an imposter. I’d only just finished a long apprenticeship before I came here, and while I’ve been officially discharged with the proper certifications and other nonsense, it was a struggle to get out from under my mentor’s thumb. His reaction to my wanting to graduate, was… extreme.”

They’d slowed down, and were nearing the library. Elodie hesitated, and Remus gestured toward a bench that was set up not far from the entrance. He waited until she had settled before sitting himself, and the attentiveness he showed her went beyond politeness, not that she was surprised. She’d always thought Lupin had a great deal of empathy.

“Albus Dumbledore was the person who, well, saved me, really,” she went on. “So here I am in a different country, feeling like I only just scraped through my apprenticeship, when in reality, I worked for him for a full year past the contract. When I finally left, there was a whole thing about a curse...” Elodie shook her head, feeling less like a fraud than she thought she would when telling Mellie’s story. They were made of the same DNA, after all, and she knew how she herself would have expected to feel after going through something like that. “And then, of course, I get angry at myself for allowing that jerk to ruin the job I loved so much. There’s a joke in America about certain jobs, that they’re secret, so ‘if I tell you, then I’d have to kill you.’ This? Is not that kind of job. It’s not even all that important. I’m just sad.”

“I’ve heard that joke, though here it’s  _ Obliviate _ ,” Remus said. Elodie mentally facepalmed, because  _ of course _ . “I enjoyed my job, too. I was only able to do it for a year, strangely enough  _ also _ because of a curse. Though which one in particular might be debatable.”

“There was something about the DADA position being cursed in one of the less terrible history books I’ve looked at,” Elodie said, not wanting him to have to dwell on that other issue.

“Yes, I am just one in a long line.”

This was the point where, had she been talking to nearly anyone else in the whole world, she would ask what they planned to do next. Except, Elodie was certain he didn’t know, and that he may have to scrounge for work for more than a year before being asked to take on the awful task of trying to infiltrate hostile werewolf dens. She knew this from the books, but somehow when faced with the real Lupin, it was even more horrible. Picturing this intelligent, careful man forced to do something like that, and knowing what it had done to his personality made her eyes well up with tears. All of that suffering in his life before getting to be a professor at Hogwarts with his best friend’s son as a pupil, then more years of uncertainty, only to have to degrade himself living as the part of himself he hated the most--and then to die?! She couldn’t bear it, and while she tried to hide them, silent tears started to fall down her cheeks.

“If I may,” Lupin said quietly, handing her a handkerchief without fanfare. “I think this is all still very raw. It is very difficult to be alone after a great trauma; I know something about that, myself.” He crossed one leg over the other and started fidgeting with his shoe, making her wonder if he was acting preoccupied so that she didn’t feel obligated to stop crying for his sake.

Elodie knew that alluding to his own struggles was rare from such a private man, and her instinct was to reach out. She felt like she was on a knife edge, though--she wasn’t trying to push him either too close--to feel like she was expecting anything from him--or too far, to retreat back into himself. To her surprise, though, it was Remus who spoke first.

“I’ve been surrounded by children and professors for nearly a year. All this solitude has been… unexpectedly unwelcome. Perhaps we can meet in the courtyard to chat about books, or--” he stopped speaking unexpectedly, and Elodie looked over to see him casting a repair spell on one of the panels of leather on his shoe that had come free of its stitching.

“I would really like that,” she told him. Taking out her own wand to clean his handkerchief free of her tears, she leaned over conspiratorially and whispered, “I won’t ask if you’re looking to replace the conversation of children, or professors.” Elodie kept a perfectly straight face as she handed his property back.

A slow smile grew on his face until it burst out as light laughter.

“Thank you,” he said, simply. “In fairness I should warn you that I will be collecting information to figure out what your apprenticeship was. I am unforgivably curious,” he confessed to her.

“Ah, but now you’ve warned me, I can now scatter misinformation throughout our conversations,” Elodie countered.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he said bluntly. “You seem almost involuntarily honest, sometimes.” He stood up and gestured toward the library door. “Shall we?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said. She made a note to look equally though the sections for baking, potions, and transfiguration, just because.

  
  


8888888888888888  
  


“Now, to the fascinating part!” Slughorn said, pulling a small, well-used notebook from a pocket of his waistcoat.

Horace Slughorn was, quite honestly, a treat. He was nothing like the stereotypical fantasy book wizard, as he was fat where they were usually thin, short where they were often tall, and mentally sharp where they were almost always, well, batty. At the same time, he had an attitude about him that just  _ screamed _ ‘eccentric British wizard.’ 

He’d arrived in the Floo at Hollyfield with a levitated ornate trunk behind him (“They tell you this isn’t possible, but it  _ is _ , it’s just not foolproof, so you just have to not care if the levitated material actually arrives with you,” he’d said in response to her astonishment). Once in the potions room, he had taken charge with competence and precision, despite his girth posing a few logistical issues. Now, just under an hour later, Elodie had two identical stone tables, with two different cauldrons containing two different stages of Wolfsbane potion.

“This particular spell has a terrible reputation,” Slughorn told her. “It’s to do with the fact that it’s imprecise. There’s a terrible amount of good quality magic that’s been rejected by the Ministry due to how unpredictable it is!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but--which spell?” Elodie asked.

“Horace, you ninny, it’s Horace!” he protested. “We’re friends now, and I’m quite pleased to have in my circle a talented American witch. Don’t ruin my fun, my dear.” Elodie nodded, unable to do much else. “Now, the spell, it’s not even really got a name anymore. Unpronounceable Welsh stuff. But the theory is what we’re concerned with anyway.” He waved her over, pointing with a pudgy finger almost as wide as his little notebook. “Here. It speeds a potion with a brew time longer than a month. Has to be the kind of potion with phases, like Wolfsbane, and it acts a little like a time capsule inside the cauldron. Everything just speeds up, a miniature force field containing time dilation. The only complication is the reagent.”

Elodie knew that if Slughorn used the term ‘complication,’ it was probably an understatement, and she told him so. He laughed, a jolly, joyful sort of sound that eased her concern.

“It is a bit serious, you’re right,” he told her, then. “But that all depends on the person, you see. The reagent is really about  _ potential _ , and then  _ penalty _ if that potential isn’t harnessed. So the spell, once cast, asks that you pledge a portion of your potential--your immediate physical presence, for a set period of time--and it takes a penalty if you fail--a portion of your life expectancy.”

“Life expectancy!” Elodie exclaimed, a bit shocked.

“Well, that, and the potion fails,” he said, his jolly mood apparently completely unaffected by the importance of what he was saying. “Look at it in practical terms: do you have anywhere you need to go, as in leaving the area, say, 200 yards or so, in the next two weeks?”

“No,” she said.

“Marvelous! Now, what if a friend of yours decides to suddenly elope with their lover? Once this is cast, you would be unable to go to celebrate with them. Are you certain there’s nothing that would pull you away?”

“I’m in a rather unique situation, to be honest. I told you about the curse my mentor cast?” Horace nodded, reaching out to pat her shoulder in a way she was sure he’d have viewed as ‘gentle.’ “He did his best to poison my friends against me, during my last year in his service. They’re all still in America, thinking that I’m a shitty friend they’re well rid of, anyway. My only other friends are here, and so near that I doubt they’d call me away or be angry if I was unable to come if they did.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s a stroke of luck for your werewolf friend, I’d say.”

“I can’t imagine anything happening--even a fire, or something utterly unexpected, could be worked around, I think,” Elodie mused. “But I would still like to ask: when you mentioned unpredictability before…”

“It’s meant to penalize by taking a few years off your old age, but you’re wise to question me, because it  _ is _ unpredictable. The most well known case--and the one that caused this to be restricted from the curriculum even as a curiosity, when training Masters--was of a middle-aged housewife. Her father was dying, and she brewed up a potion meant to re-grow an organ--” Horace broke off, making a horrible face. “I shouldn’t go into specifics. Suffice to say, they believe that she lost almost ten years. Accidentally touched a portkey to the hospital, 20 kilometers away, poor woman.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “The shock killed her, they said. All those cells rushing to catch up to the years she’d advanced, she ended up riddled with tumors, and died within six months!”

Elodie hoped she looked sufficiently horrified, but the truth was, the consequences of failing weren’t all that important to her. She really didn’t have any reason to go anywhere, and she’d only just the day before been to the library. She planned to have a quiet two weeks of courtyard chats and owl correspondence within sight of Hollyfield, and that would be the end of it. The second potion would be ready in enough time for August’s full moon, and the process of transferring and bolstering the second potion’s ingredients had been a relatively simple one.

“I’m not afraid. Let’s do it,” she told Horace.

 

8888888888888888

 

When Elodie went to dinner a few hours later, it was with a magical sort of ankle monitor hidden underneath her sock. It wasn’t unattractive--it actually glowed in a pleasant sort of green/purple way--but she was sure it would invite comment, and she didn’t honestly know whether such a magical location tracker was a well-known spell or not. It was probably a testament to how awful and inescapable Azkaban was as a magical prison that the inmates there weren’t fitted with something similar. After all, it was basically impregnable, inside and out. Elodie’s version would glow progressively greener and yellower the farther away from the Wolfsbane cauldron she went, physically. At the point at which the band was nearly pure yellow, Horace had told her, she would be as far as she should dare (and probably too far, but yellow was without penalty). Any farther and the curse would activate. 

For about 10% of the casters of the magical GPS, the spell’s violence in being violated would burn an imprint into their body wherever it had been cast. This only happened at great distances, like when the caster used a Portkey or Apparated. All of this was moot, as far as Elodie was concerned.

Elodie sat down next to Remus at a round dining table and they spoke about mundane things, but she noted that she felt almost as though there was a mental component to the GPS. The weight of what she’d done--bargaining a portion of her life force for the chance to finish Remus’s potion in time for the full moon--weighed on her mind, just as the color glowed inside her sock. She supposed it was only natural for something that continuously monitored her to feel, at the very least, as a tickle at the back of her mind. That tickle was signifying a kind of falsehood (no matter what her good intentions, Remus didn’t know she was brewing Wolfsbane), and that was just something she would have to live with.

“So,” Remus said, pointing at her with a slice of his favorite chocolate bread. “Magical Muggle literature: for or against.”

“I’ll need a little more than that to offer an informed opinion, Professor Lupin,” she threw back. “Are you objecting out of principle? Saying that Muggles are writing in ignorance about a subject they have no right to make up out of whole cloth? Or are you talking about whether certain Muggles who might suspect something or have a magical relative have a right to write a magical adjacent story?”

“I was alluding to the latter,” Remus said, taking an overlarge bite and then speaking around it, awkwardly. “But that’s interesting, I hadn’t thought of the former issue. Do you really think there are Muggles who have genuinely no knowledge or suspicion about the magical world who have written about magic?”

“Of course there are!” Elodie said, almost dropping her fork. “Muggle children believe in all kinds of magic that isn’t actually real. They believe in a fairy that leaves them money for their teeth and a bunny rabbit that brings them candy on Easter,” she pointed out. “Real magic is actually far more fantastical and somehow much more mundane than the traditional things Muggle children in America believe in.”

“And what makes you an expert?” Remus asked, teasing. He brushed his hair out of his eye absently, and Elodie recognized the gesture from their first meal together.

“For all you know, I lived as a secret Muggle during my childhood!” she teased back.

“Far be it from me to expose your secrets,” Remus told her in a stage whisper.

“All in due time, I’m afraid,” Elodie said, feigning a sad expression. 

Their conversation moved back to the various Muggle interpretations of magic, and Elodie thoroughly enjoyed the subject, but later that night, she couldn’t help but fixate on that one part of their conversation. She hated lying to him, but she was trying to teach herself how to change her perspective about it. After all, it was no small event to be told one’s entire world and life experiences were fictional. Especially not if you’ve had a hard or sad life. 

Given his name, it was obvious that the author had decided that ‘Remus Lupin’ was going to be bitten by a werewolf. How would someone so kind and intelligent view that revelation? And how would he view the person who told him?! How could Elodie pretend to have become his friend because of who he  _ was _ , not how he’d been written? After all, she’d been practically lying in wait for him from the moment he’d arrived! She asked herself if she would believe someone’s affection was genuine if they’d come to feel that way after reading about her.

  
No, Elodie decided. She would never,  _ ever _ tell Remus that secret. She already cared for him too much for that.


	6. Choices' Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie finds out that her choice to cast the speed-up charm has cost her very dearly.

That weekend was unseasonably cold, with rain that couldn’t make up its mind whether it was mist or drizzle. The one other time it had rained on Elodie in the courtyard, she’d set up a conjured umbrella and a magical screen of sorts, to keep the rain from entering her happy little bubble on her favorite chair. Today, though, she stood at the dining room door and frowned. The force-field she’d conjured before took more concentration with each ‘hit’ it took, and right now, it looked like there were a million Muggle misting machines firing down at them, just out of sight.

There were some things that magic just couldn’t do. She supposed there  _ was _ a way, if there had been some really important international magical event happening, or something. But for sitting and chatting with Remus outside? There wasn’t a thing she could do.

“I really wish I could bake something right now,” she said.

“So why don’t you?” Remus asked, walking up beside her.

“I didn’t realize I said that out loud,” Elodie said, surprised. She wondered if she’d inadvertently summoned him to her. That superpower would get overused  _ really _ quick, she decided. Not that she wasn’t willing to give it a try.

“I think rain makes us seek comfort. Some of the very first magical spells ever invented were to provide relief from the rain,” he told her. 

“I really love that,” she said, quietly. “Though, how long it’s been since then, there’s been a lot of time for whitewashing and respectability to worm their way in.”

Remus looked confused, and even said, “I don’t follow?”

“It was probably something more dramatic, the first magic. Someone wanting the last bit of good meat, or something to do with jealousy, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus said, putting on, then buttoning up the jumper he’d been carrying in his hand. “I really,  _ really _ hate being wet.”

Elodie laughed. “I suppose it also depends on who you are. Stubbing your toe over and over on an outcrop of rock can conjure up some pretty strong emotions, too.”

“I wonder if it’s possible to study the language used in the earliest known spells, to hunt down that kind of thing,” Remus said, turning toward her and leaning his shoulder against the window. “I’d imagine there’d be maybe a smidgeon of nuance.”

“You mean ‘Conjure Rain Boulder’ versus ‘Conjure It To Stay The Fuck Dry?’”

Remus burst out laughing. “Exactly.”

Impulsively, Elodie put a hand on his arm. “It’s raining, so chatting outdoors is a wash--literally. Would you like to sit somewhere else? Winnifred kicks us out of the dining room between meals, so we’re on borrowed time, here.”

“I’d like that,” he said with a genuine smile. She felt like she could tell those apart from the ones he bestowed on the mostly older ladies who tutted over his clothes during mealtime. “I have to pick up some waterproof parchment for some letters. Would you like to come to Diagon?”

Elodie’s face fell. She hadn’t expected to miss out on time  _ with _ Lupin due to her brewing a potion  _ for _ Lupin.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m working on somewhat of a project,” she said, hating the oblique language she was forced to use. He couldn’t help but notice, she was sure he would. “I need to stay in the immediate area.”

“I understand,” Remus said, but he’d straightened up, pulling himself away from her in the process. It was subtle, but she could see it as clear as day. “Is there anything I can pick up for you?”

She cast around in her mind, trying to think of something other than sweets that she’d want from Diagon Alley.

“Are self-inking quills expensive? I’ve been wanting one, but I have no idea what the market is for them here.”

“Not too expensive, no,” he said.

“Will you wait for me to grab my change purse? I’ll be right back,” she said. Before he could respond, she was powerwalking away. Elodie knew he wasn’t wealthy, and she did  _ not _ want to end up siphoning off a large portion of his salary from Hogwarts just to make up for her not being able to accompany him.

When she returned, a bit out of breath, Remus was seated faced away from her, a thick parchment rolled out on his leg. It looked like a letter, and she made sure to tap her fingernails on a table as she passed to alert him to her return, just in case he hadn’t heard her. Remus turned to look in her direction, that genuine, open smile on his face again. It made her heart ache. She wanted to make it possible for him to smile like that all the time.

“I find it kind of endearing, the way you rush about, instead of Apparating,” he told her.

“It’s the Muggle dad,” she said, trying not to blush. “I still am not the biggest fan of the feeling, anyway.”

“Can’t be much worse than a transatlantic Portkey,” Remus pointed out, standing. He looked down to roll up the letter carefully, placing a pre-sized ribbon around it before tucking it into a hidden pocket on the inside of his jumper.

“I am hopeless with money, I’ll tell you right out,” Elodie said with an apologetic look. “So I’m not trying to be embarrassing when I just reach in and grab some. If it’s too much, just tell me, I can take it.”

“You’re a thoughtful person, Elodie,” Remus told her. “You won’t embarrass me. I know I spend too much on books and not enough on jumpers without holes.”

Elodie looked up at him in horror for a second.

“Oh, you should see your face! I’m sorry. I was just reading a letter from a particularly playful friend of mine, and it just puts me in an impish mood,” he said, looking a bit ashamed of himself.

“I’m sure wildly fluctuating heart rates are the latest health craze, Remus--don’t worry about it,” she told him, still a little wide-eyed. “I’d love to meet your friend, though. You looked so happy reading your letter. You should have that more often.” Feeling like she’d definitely spoken out of turn, Elodie looked intently at her change purse, pulling out an amount that she hoped was too much. “Here, I hope that’s enough.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding like his response was for more than the money.

As always, Elodie walked away from Remus Lupin wishing she could do so many things--hug him, tell him how truly amazing he was, offer him sympathy for all he’d gone through, or lately, reach up and brush his sandy colored hair away from his eyes and tell him they were going to win. If only she could do the latter without conveying just how much loss there was to suffer between then and now.

  
  


8888888888888888

 

Besides getting her self-inking quill from Remus and checking up on the Wolfsbane, Elodie didn’t have much to do outside of her room when it was raining. She’d technically gone through all of  _ Grade 5 _ of her spellbook, but it was slower going, with more spells that felt like they would only work properly with lots of practice. That made sense, of course, but she still felt kind of ridiculous sitting on the floor in her room and casting a levitation charm over and over again. The levitation spell in  _ Standard Book of Spells: Grade 5  _ was the granddaddy of  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ , which was for smaller, lighter things. So she sat on the floor and channeled Ron Weasley, floating around a feather and imagining Hermione Granger was grading her on style points.

After that, she practiced various other spells from the earlier years that she’d written down, feeling proud of herself for recognizing as early as  _ Grade 2 _ that there would be some spells that built on each other, practice-wise. When it came time to practice shield charms, though, Elodie decided against spelling a soft item to fly at her repeatedly, even though the book  _ actually _ suggested doing this! 

“They really start the incompetence early, don’t they?!” she said, aloud. 

She conjured herself a pillow and lay back on it, staring at the ceiling. The lackadaisical behavior towards just about everything by authority figures in the books had been a source of amusement, sort of like the ‘International Adult Conspiracy’ had been in Pete and Pete--a vehicle for humorous interactions, for a young adult publication.  _ Living _ in that world, though? That led to some interesting conclusions. For one thing, magic was just naturally imprecise. There were regulations, with some spells being Unforgivable, some spells being on the curriculum, but most others were self-discovered; while some creatures were magically tolerated out of necessity (pests such as Doxies came to mind), and other magical creatures had a truce of sorts with the regulating authorities (for werewolves this was less a truce and more a cruel intolerance). But overall, it felt like part of why everything was so ‘loosey goosey’ was because it kind of had to be.

At the same time, for being a school with such a towering reputation, Hogwarts was pretty atrocious in its handling of certain subjects--DADA being one of them. Without Lupin, the students in Harry’s year and those surrounding would have been in terrible straits but that was ‘would BE,’ wasn’t it, because that hadn’t happened yet. The upcoming year at Hogwarts would be a study in inattentive and careless adulting, with Harry and his classmates nearly dying in all manner of ways, thanks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

The big question was: did Elodie have the right to interfere? Did she have the  _ responsibility _ to interfere? Would anything be changed for the better if she told someone that the real Mad-Eye Moody was in a magically enhanced trunk for ten months during Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts? Could she,  _ should _ she try to save Cedric Diggory’s life?

Elodie arched her back to look out the window. It looked like the afternoon sun had come out, and after being essentially trapped inside for days, she was desperate for some fresh air. She rolled to her feet, tossing on a sandy brown jumper she’d started to love wearing in the mornings when it was chilly out, and started out her door. A second later, she reached her wand in through the doorway and   _ Accio _ ’d a book on the associations between Transfiguration spells and language.

“I beat you to the most comfortable chair, and I’m not sorry,” was Lupin’s greeting, when she came outside. “In atonement, you should know that I remembered to dry the chair I saved for you, but not mine.”

“That seems fair,” she agreed, and then made a happy, aggressive noise. “Arghhhh I missed the sun!” She tipped her head back and just enjoyed the heat on her face for a long time, feeling a real delight in knowing that she was near someone she really cared about, and that he had looked forward to seeing her, as well. The fact that she was going to have to tell him about brewing his Wolfsbane, and thus admit that she’d known he was a werewolf this whole time… that was just going to have to be a problem for another day.

Today, Elodie was Scarlett O’Hara, and she was going to think about all of that tomorrow.

She must have dozed off, because she woke up to Remus saying, “I wonder what Albus is doing here?”

Dumbledore was in a hurry, because he was still brushing the Floo network ash from his robes as he walked up to them. Immediately, he cast a  _ Muffliato _ spell, which sparked a feeling of dread inside her. Here was one of the worst candidates for ‘loosey goosey’ policies being careful--that didn’t bode well. She scooted forward on her chair, anxious to hear what he had to say.

“Hello Remus, Elodie. I’m sorry to disturb you. I have just received a worrisome message,” Dumbledore said, reaching out to take Elodie’s hand. “It was from Marcos Francis.”

On hearing this, Elodie actually felt less concerned. “Didn’t like not hearing from me, did he? Too bad,” she said harshly.

“Unfortunately, yes--but he stated that he was contacting me on behalf of your mother,” Albus said. Elodie couldn’t help gripping his hand tighter. “He says that she is worried, since she hasn’t heard from Elodie in over a month.”

Elodie stood up, shaking off Albus’s hand and pointing off into the far distance, wherever America was. “That man is  _ lying _ ,” she hissed. “I sent her a message days ago. He’s just trying to pull me back in using my mother! He’s lied and tricked everyone else in my life into thinking I hated them, and now he’s starting in on her!” She felt a powerful, almost impossible to ignore urge to whip out her wand, but somehow she knew instinctively that this was the kind of thing an angry, adult witch did not do in the company of friends.

“That is very troubling, as is his message from your mother. He says that she is gravely ill.”

Elodie felt a sharp stab of pain in her chest. The implications of what he had just said were so upsetting that all she could do was shake her head over and over in shock. She heard Remus ask a question, but didn’t hear the answer. There was a rushing sound in her ears, a rhythmic sound that she realized was her blood actually flowing through the tissue, in time with her racing heartbeat. She could also feel it beating right at her ankle, under her ‘gps’ anklet.

“Elodie, my dear,” Albus said, curving a robed arm around her shoulders. “There’s more.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, I was just--”

“It’s natural, no need to apologize,” Remus said, holding out a handkerchief for her. She didn’t have any tears, though. Just anger and deep, bone-chilling dread.

“Francis stated that your mother was exposed to a pathogen; they’re doing tests, but it is possible, I’m sorry to tell you, that it is Dragon Pox.”

Elodie felt wholly inadequate to the crisis unfolding before her. The look on Remus’s face was shock tinged with horror, and Albus’s voice had been hushed, so despite not really knowing anything about Dragon Pox, she knew it had to be the worst possible news. She forced herself to focus on Dumbledore, who was speaking again.

“--could be taking advantage of the situation,” he said. “It’s best if I head over to the hospital tonight, and if possible, speak with Mrs. Merriman. If I need to, I will use Legillimency to determine if she’s being manipulated. For now, though, I think it’s best if Elodie remain here. There is ample reason to think that this could be a trap.” 

For Elodie, one thought rose to the surface through the din of fears, self-recrimination, and what-ifs: she couldn’t leave Hollyfield, not without cursing herself and ruining the Wolfsbane. She started shaking like a leaf, and Remus, who had been pacing back and forth, strode past Albus to stand beside her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

“If it  _ is _ a trap, it’s possible her mother is unharmed?” he suggested.

Albus shook his head. “Where Francis says they are, it’s a crime to even suggest an outbreak of Dragon Pox. A minor crime, mind you, but--the local laws in Boston were a reaction to an incident in the 1960’s.” He moved to stand in front of Elodie, taking both of her hands in his. “I’m going to go find out. If your mother is indeed ill, even if it isn’t Dragon Pox, I’ll send for you tomorrow, all right?”

Elodie nodded, but the words ‘send for you’ repeated in her head over and over as she stood there, struck dumb by the mess she’d made for herself. Of all the things to discount when deciding to cast that literally  _ cursed _ speed-up spell! A close relative on another continent was hardly an additional blip in travel time, when you have magic.

Albus had dropped her hands and was making wide, sweeping gestures while talking with Lupin, who still had his hand resting on her shoulder, his thumb drawing soothing circles.  _ I am unsoothable _ , she thought.  _ There’s no soothing me: I have to somehow tell Albus what I’ve done. _ She opened her mouth and tried to think of what to say, how to phrase it so that she didn’t have to give away both her stupidity and her lies all at once to the two people she had left in the world, save for her mother. Thanks to her, Laurel Merriman might die having never seen her real daughter (or Elodie herself) again.

When she finally organized her desperate thoughts well enough to start listening to the conversation happening in front of her, she heard Dumbledore using language that meant he was wrapping up the conversation. He was getting ready to leave.

It was time.

“Albus, I’ve done something,” Elodie said in a small voice. Whether it was the terrified look on her face or the distress in her voice, as soon as she spoke, both men turned toward her immediately.

“What is it, my dear?” Albus said, placing a gentle hand on her arm “I can’t offer assurances about your mother’s condition, only that--”

“It’s about our project,” she interrupted, careful to keep her language oblique _. _ Despite her knowledge of Remus’s character that extended back years, she’d known him in person for what really only amounted to a few days. She did  _ not _ want to choose this moment to tell him she’d known all along about his lycanthropy. Elodie was sure that Albus would understand, so she didn’t seek to exclude Lupin in any way other than language. “As you know, the timing isn’t ideal, but Horace had a suggestion--”

At this, Dumbledore’s hand fell from her arm, and he started fidgeting, almost as if he were dry washing his hands in agitation.

“I’d already transferred some of it, for the new batch, so I really only needed a fix for this month,” Elodie continued, stealing a glance over at Lupin. He looked deeply concerned, but not suspicious or wary, which was reassuring.

“Which reagent?” Albus asked, his voice harsh with disappointment.

“Age,” she whispered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus glance back and forth at Dumbledore’s red, angry face, then over at Elodie’s apologetic one.

“Tell me you did not do this on my account, Elodie,” Albus said. “You must know I was  _ fully _ aware of the length of time--”

Elodie didn’t want to risk letting him finish his sentence, so she rushed to interrupt him.

“I hadn’t even considered that angle, Albus. I promise you.” She hadn’t, at that. Her decision was all about Lupin.

“Is there anything I can do to mediate?” Remus stepped forward and held out a hand in a calming gesture. “This is all above my head, but I can tell that you both care a lot about each other and whatever you’re working on.”

“Actually, Remus, you  _ can _ help,” Albus said, turning to Lupin. “Will you please Owl Minerva and tell her I need to head to America this evening, and will probably be staying a night? The New York Portkey still has two hours yet.”

With wry amusement showing on his face, Remus agreed, and nodded his goodbyes as he headed off toward the building. All three of them knew he’d been dismissed so that Albus and Elodie could talk through their issue, so Elodie expected that she’d have some delicate sidestepping to do, later.

“What were you thinking!” Dumbledore said incredulously, once Lupin was out of earshot.

“I’ve been reading, Albus, about recent history. About Harry Potter, and his parents, and his parents’ friends,” Elodie told him. Everything she was saying was true, of course, but not because of history books. Still, she was careful, as she knew things that historians couldn’t and probably wouldn’t ever know. “There isn’t much, of course--and most of it has to do with the Potters and Sirius Black, but Lupin was mentioned. Yes, he’s clearly important to you, and that makes him someone I want to help, but it’s more than that. He lost Harry’s parents, and then he lost two best friends right afterwards! He has suffered, and I thought, ‘I can help. All it takes is for me to stay near Hollyfield for two weeks. Easy!’”

“Oh, Elodie,” Albus said, his anger clearly ebbing away thanks to her explanation.

“I don’t have any friends; I’m practically rebuilding my life here from nothing,” she said, trying to explain herself. “I’d just sent a message to my mother. What was two weeks of my life compared with what he’s gone through? Since I got here I’ve only left the area to go to the local library--and I’m not even sure it’s out of range.”

“I understand, now,” Albus said. “Your reasoning was sound, except for the influence of--”

“Jerk Francis,” Elodie finished for him. “It must have been eating away at him that I haven’t sent a Howler or an angry Hogwarts Headmaster to reason with him.” Albus chuckled, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her nickname for Mellie’s former mentor or the idea that she could sic him on her enemies. “Albus, I need to tell you: if you do come across him--”

“I am certain to,” Dumbledore said, rather ominously. “Go on.”

“It’s just that…” Elodie stopped, her lips twisting in an uncertain, unhappy moue. “I don’t want him to take it back, what he’s done to me. I don’t want you to ask, I mean, but even if he offers.” She nodded once, at the end, as if to punctuate what she was saying. 

On one of her first nights after she’d arrived, Elodie had lain awake with the intrusive thought that there might come a time when either Francis would try to bargain, or Albus would threaten him--and then Elodie might be ripped away from this world and sent back to her own. She’d felt selfish, given that Mellie’s mom would undoubtedly miss her, but after agonizing over it, Elodie had come to decide that there were no guarantees that their swap was reversible, if indeed that was what had happened.

The unknown unknowns were just… too risky. And now, with their mother in such awful danger, she shuddered to think of the possibilities, one of which was that neither of them would survive the magic transfer this time. To her relief, Albus nodded.

“Do not fear on that score, Elodie. That man has nothing to bargain with, nor do we have anything we want from him.” For a few seconds, Dumbledore looked quite feral before his expression soon turned grave as he spoke again.

“Yes, in this situation, I believe he is attempting to bait you. If so I am not certain that your presence there would be wise, except for the condition of your mother. Dragon Pox is incurable, and if she has somehow been infected…”

“He did it, if she is.” Elodie felt cold and hollow. Up until now, her whole experience in this time and place had felt like an experience of a lifetime. Roleplaying a witch with real magical powers, interacting with some of her favorite characters, creating a potion with immense importance? All of it was a complete dream come true. But just as in the books, it was easy to forget that there were bad people with bad intentions.

“Unfortunately, my dear, if it is Dragon Pox, your mother will not have two weeks to spare.”

 

8888888888888888

 

When Albus left, Elodie just sat in the chair in the courtyard and watched the clouds travel over her head. Dinnertime came and went, and she watched the shadows of the courtyard furniture travel across the ground, sitting cross-legged in her chair once her neck was too tired to look up.

Basically, she wallowed.

Elodie soaked in her guilt for hours, berating herself, questioning her choices, and coming up with every reason not to have cast the acceleration spell, until she had nothing left to yell inside her own head. Then, she started looking for other answers. She told herself that she’d taken care of all the self-hatred on the schedule for the next few weeks, and it was all exhausted, as was the lump at the back of her throat that she felt when she held herself right on the verge of crying.

Her heart ached, her head ached, and her throat ached.

“All right,” she whispered to herself in the darkness. “Now: what do I do?”

The easy choice was to just go, provided Albus called for her. Remus had gone without Wolfsbane before, and even with ten years lost--Elodie had no intention of Apparating, and the New York Portkey that Dumbledore had mentioned was situated in London, so she could walk to the edges of her boundary, walk a ways farther, wait for whatever effect it had on her, and  _ then _ travel--she’d still be under 50. The average time taken was more like two years, according to Horace.

Another option was to research whether there was some kind of magical Skype that could let her at least speak to her mother, without leaving the area. She didn’t think this was very feasible, as magic didn’t seem to have much viability over long distances.

The third option she thought up would probably cause a mass outbreak of Dragon Pox in Britain, and she wasn’t prepared to do that.

“Oh,  _ Elodie _ .” Remus came walking out of the brightly lit dining room and directly over to her, crouching in front of her chair. “You must eat.”

“I did, of sorts,” Elodie tried to joke, and then shook her head. “No, I didn’t. Eating my soul is too melodramatic, even for me.”

“I feel like your soul is far too cheerful to be a good meal when you’re miserable anyway,” Lupin mused. “Bakewell Tart is just not morose enough.”

“Too British,” she objected. “Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food?” Remus shook his head, clearly unfamiliar, and Elodie untucked her legs from beneath her to scoot forward, excited. “Oh, it’s right up your alley. There are fish-shaped fudgey things.” When he still looked unsure, she smacked her forehead. “P-H-I-S-H,” she spelled out. “It’s a whole--just, just trust me, okay? Someday, I need to feed you even just the little fudgey fish thing.”

“For you, I suppose I’d eat a fudgey fish thing,” Remus repeated dutifully.

“You’d love it,” Elodie promised confidently. “But it has to be authentic. So probably I’ll end up baking you something, before I’d buy and ship you magically frozen American ice cream.”

“It’s ice cream?!” Remus said, straightening up to a stand and wincing as he lifted one leg and bent that knee.

Elodie cracked up, holding her hands to her chest as she laughed. “God. Thank you for that. I was in a really dark place there for a while.”

“I hope you and Albus worked out your issue, and therefore, I will not ask about it,” Remus said, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

“Not even obliquely?” she teased. “Let’s just say I decided to cast something I thought would be helpful. Something that has a curse component, if I were to leave the general vicinity.”

“A penalty clause?” he said, looking surprised. He seemed to struggle with his curiosity and sense of propriety for a long moment, until he finally said, “How very… ‘none of my business’ of you.”

“Why, Remus!” Elodie said admiringly. “You’re speaking my language!”

 

8888888888888888

 

Remus was the bright spot in the next 18 hours for Elodie. He persuaded her to go to bed (by threatening to Side-Along Apparate her up there, which made her both frustrated that he’d managed to figure out her abhorrence for the idea of Apparating, and grumpy at the idea of missing out on being so close to him when he cast powerful magic, because she was absolutely  _ not _ letting him Apparate her anywhere). She could tell that he was curious about what she’d done, but she could also tell that he thought asking her directly about it was crossing a line.

No one woke her for breakfast, which she found out at lunch time, when Remus knocked on her door.

“Come eat! Winnifred wants to tell you something,” he’d said after a knock that reminded her so much of her father’s that she’d been confused as to where she was, initially.

Elodie felt all kinds of out of sorts. She already had a crush on Remus before, when he wasn’t actually real, but was instead an internationally beloved fictional character. Now that he  _ was _ real, she could tell that her feelings were careening down a steep hill directly toward full-blown infatuation, and that just wasn’t compatible with deceit. He was going to find out what she was hiding eventually-- but how would she convince him that her friendliness wasn’t borne out of compassion--or worse, pity?

She quickly shoved the thought aside and went searching for Winnifred. That hadn’t really done much to shunt away her thoughts of Remus, as she was certain he was the cause for Winnifred’s greeting, as soon as she saw Elodie walking toward her:

“I heard you like to bake.”

Shortly after lunch, Elodie was allowed to go into the kitchen and meet with the staff there. She found that one of the reasons that Hollyfield didn’t have House Elves was that Winnifred had wanted to give jobs to people who wanted or needed, for a particular reason, to stay somewhere quiet and remote.

Later, when she’d made arrangements to help for Sunday breakfast at the end of the week, Elodie thought about the concept of magical stalking as she straightened her room up. After all, stalking was kind of what she (as Mellie) was going through, though she hoped like hell her situation was a rare one. When the Owl Post was notorious for knowing right where someone was at all times, how did vulnerable people avoid their magical stalkers? She hoped there were laws protecting the victims, and she knew about magical wards and the  _ Fidelius  _ charm, but given the happy faces of the kitchen staff, it may be that keeping safe in the magical world of Harry Potter was quite similar to the Muggle world. Stay quiet, out of sight, and off the radar.

Had Remus needed to do that, after the attack on the Potters? She wished she could ask him, but he seemed the kind of private person that even close friends wouldn’t push to answer those kinds of questions.

Elodie folded her blanket, and when she draped it on her headboard (where she could grab it quickly in the night, because casting warming charms when half-asleep was  _ not _ a thing she was willing to try), she almost knocked over the cauldron trinket Horace had gifted to her. It was a perfect miniature, and would serve as an actual cauldron in a pinch, if enlarged. 

Horace was an unexpected, but very welcome friend. Her prevailing memory of him as a character had been his fawnish preoccupation with celebrity, but in person (and away from a wider audience), he was a great deal of fun, and quite practical, in a weird way. Her pet obsession was the imprecise nature of magic, and he was also an amateur scholar of this phenomenon. She suspected that this was one of the things Dumbledore really disliked about Slughorn. 

Elodie was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the knock at her door at first. 

“Elodie?” Remus called out.

“Oh! Coming!” She opened the door and ushered him in, giving the room a once-over with a more critical eye, and feeling mostly satisfied. “Sorry, didn’t hear you right away.”

“No problem,” Remus said in an easygoing tone. “I hadn’t seen you for almost half the day, and I was hoping you hadn’t gotten bad news.”

He looked like he might have had more to say, there, but she rushed to interrupt with reassurance. “No, no news of yet. Not sure that’s good, but…” She shrugged.

Remus walked farther into the room, his eyes lighting on the miniature cauldron on her bed where she’d left it. He walked over and traced its outline with his fingers, but didn’t pick it up. “Are you… settling in okay?”

“Lupin-speak for, wow, it’s sparse in here?” Elodie joked. Instead of looking abashed, he offered her a slightly apologetic smile, and nodded.

“I left America quite abruptly. Since coming here, I haven’t done much shopping, and I haven’t gotten on the radar of any mail-order catalogues.”

Remus wandered over to her window and said, in a very quiet, yet firm voice as he faced away from her, “And there’s a mysterious spell with a penalty clause that is keeping you from leaving the area.”

“Do sit down?” Elodie deflected, just shy of imitating a proper posh accent.

Instead of taking the bait, Remus just turned away from the window and shot her a very disapproving look. Elodie walked closer to him and started tracing her finger along the decorative carved bedpost at the end of her bed.

“I  _ am _ keeping something from you, Remus, but does it follow that it’s always harmful to do that?” she asked slowly, forming the words with care and caution. “I mean, between friends, aren’t there... I don’t know,  _ degrees _ of holding back?”

“You’re asking if it’s ever okay to lie to a friend,” Remus said flatly. “I would say in theory, no. In practice--” he broke off and looked down. His expression could only have been described as sorrowful, and Elodie, who knew he had to be thinking about his lycanthropy, felt profoundly guilty for even having brought it up.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said brusquely. “Sweep it all under the bed with the dust bunnies, would you?”

“Would I, though?” he asked, lifting his eyes, but not his head. 

“You would. Especially when we clarify that keeping things secret isn’t actually the same as lying.”

Elodie realized she was tapping her finger on the bedpost now, charged as she was with nervous energy.

“How about instead, we agree that it’s situational,” Remus said, and in a rare move, he rested his hand overtop of hers for a few seconds, to still her. She wondered if he could feel the way her pulse jumped at his touch.

Just then, there was another knock at the door. Elodie looked up at Remus with alarm.

“Albus?” Remus called out, lifting his hand off of hers to curve his arm around her, guiding her to the door while walking with her, in a welcome gesture of support.

It wasn’t Dumbledore, though. Instead, it was a courier holding a large, bulbous vial of greenish liquid. Elodie shook her head in confusion, but the courier (who had a very matter-of-fact, but kind voice) asked permission to enter the room, and handed her a flat, folded parchment, instead of a roll.

Remus reached for it, his questioning expression asking permission. She nodded. Then he used the arm still gently resting around Elodie’s shoulders to guide her back to her bed, where she sat, one hand clutching the nearest bedpost.

Remus read, “Elodie and Remus, this is a rather unique spell that uses magic to record a stretch of sound, which then plays when the vial is tipped out. Recipients are to tap the lip of the vial prior to pouring it out. This is to ensure secrecy as well as authenticity, as you will hear my voice shortly. There’s no wrong way to activate it, and the spell will leave no residue. I’ve already paid the courier.”

To her surprise, the courier stretched his gloved hand out, and after hesitating a tic, Remus placed the re-folded page back on top of it. Then the man handed the vial to Remus, nodded, and left.

Remus and Elodie just stared at each other. Then, with a deep breath, Remus walked over and set down the vial on the nightstand. He grabbed the remaining non-transfigured powder blue chair and dragged it over to the bed, right beside where Elodie sat. Then, he pulled out his wand.

“‘Though things go differently from the expected, it is necessary to take heart,’” he said, his expression kindly. “Vincent Van Gogh.”

Elodie utterly and completely adored him in that moment, terrified as she was about what they were about to find out.

She took out her own wand, and before Remus could move to retrieve Dumbledore’s message, she held out her other hand. “Wait,” she said, and conjured a handkerchief for herself. “All right.”

He walked over and lifted the vial with a steady hand, walking slowly and carefully back to where Elodie was waiting. He sat on the very edge of the chair, holding it out to her. She took a deep, steadying breath and tapped once on the lip with her wand. Remus tapped with his, and then he started to pour. 

To Elodie’s surprise, the liquid wasn’t liquid at all. It was a thick mist, and the small tipping motion was enough to decant the whole thing. Instead of spreading out on the floor where it had been poured, though, the mist folded into an odd pyramid sort of shape, and a deeper green tendril lifted from the very top of the pyramid, like a flame. Then, they heard Albus Dumbledore’s voice.

“ _ Elodie, Remus, I apologize for the strangeness of this message. A lot has happened, and the secrecy and precautions taken are necessary, I assure you. First I want to tell you that, through testing, we have learned that the illness suffered by Elodie’s mother is indeed Dragon Pox. _ ”

Here, the message paused, and Elodie was grateful, as the news (though half-expected) was still a blow. She drew in a short, pained breath, and locked eyes with Remus. Then, Albus’s voice began again, drawing her attention back to the misted pyramid.

“ _ It seems that Marcos Francis was so determined to hurt you that he obtained, through deception, a job at a magical research firm that was searching for a cure for the malady. Unfortunately for him, the sample of the virus he got his hands on infected him as well, which we did not realize until he had escaped the hospital that was treating your mother. _ ” There was a pause, and then,  _ “It was a trap, Elodie. _ ”

Another pause, but this time, Elodie’s eyes were fixed on the dwindling pyramid of mist. Suddenly, she felt a firm, warm hand at her shoulder, and Elodie tipped her head over toward it, shrugging Remus’s hand up against her cheek in a sort of ‘thank you’ hug. He squeezed her shoulder in response.

“ _ As you might imagine, Magical Boston is on a quarantine, and the authorities here have released a foul-smelling smoke cloud to keep the Muggles indoors with an ‘air quality’ warning. If my voice sounds at all strange, it’s because I was able to cast this intricate spell with Minerva’s assistance, by using a Muggle telephone device. Physical messages are not allowed to pass out of the quarantine for any reason. As for your mother-- _ ”

Another squeeze at her shoulder.

“ _ I’m so sorry to tell you, Elodie, that she passed away this morning.  _ Elodie gasped.  _ There was nothing we could do, and unfortunately, there is no way to transport her body to you due to the disease vector issue. I was able to speak to her before she died, and she told me something she wanted me to pass along. _ ”

The sound again paused, and Elodie felt a deep gratitude toward the thoughtfulness of Albus (or, she supposed, possibly McGonagall) in these moments of strategic, sympathetic silence. She blew her nose on the handkerchief and wiped at her eyes, feeling like the gesture was symbolic, as there was no stemming the tide of tears today.

“ _ She did get your Owl, and she said that you had mentioned one of the worst memories you’d experienced in those Muggle years was her death and funeral. She wanted you to know that she never would have wished for you to experience that at all, much less twice in your life. Her triumph, she said, was that you remained safe and out of reach, and your tormentor would soon die, too. _ ”

The pyramid was almost gone, and Elodie felt bereft. As long as Dumbledore’s voice remained, there was more information to learn, and her grief could be postponed. Inexorably, though, his voice sounded again.

“ _ I lend my voice to hers in that encouragement, Elodie: Francis is not long for this world. We fully expect to find his corpse, and soon. As for the fallout here, Dragon Pox as I may have mentioned before, well, it’s a sensitive subject here in Boston. Only my stature as Chief Mugwump has allowed me to pass on this much information, and you are allowed to hear it by virtue of your being the target of the criminal dissemination of the virus. Minerva and Remus, I have vouched for, and that took some doing. It was worth it. I am incredibly sorry for the sorrow you must now experience, but as you told me in May, you wished only to be free. Now, you are. Farewell for now. I will return when Francis is found and the quarantine is lifted. _ ”

The mist pyramid was a mere dollop, now, and once Albus’s recorded voice stopped, it hovered, then dropped, spreading out and disappearing in a large, flat spiral.


	7. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie attempts to turn her back on her friendship with Lupin, wracked with guilt over how much she's ended up lying to him. Luckily, Remus is wiser than she is.

 

After Dumbledore’s voice faded, silence hung in the room. Elodie stared at the floor, grateful for Remus’s hand at her shoulder, but afraid that he’d move if she stirred at all. She felt like she was on the verge of falling apart, and only the steady presence of Remus Lupin, the not-fictional, real person beside her kept her from dissolving away like the mist that had brought the news of her mother’s death. He took in a breath, and she turned to look at him in a panic.

“Don’t move, don’t say anything,” she whispered. “If we stay here, just like this, it’s not real, yet.” She knew how ridiculous it sounded, but there was a large portion of her life right now that could qualify as ridiculous. It wasn’t so awful to exploit that in such a terrible time, she assured herself.

But Remus, whose very existence in the same physical world as Elodie was one of the  _ most _ outrageous, was also the most perfect addition to it. He lifted his wand slowly and whispered a sequence of spells. Elodie felt herself enveloped in the (spelled warm and cozy, thanks to Remus) blanket she’d folded along the back of her bed. Beside her, a flowerpot poofed into existence, with a small, healthy looking Jade plant inside--her very favorite. Beside the plant, a visible swirl of magic like a miniature nebula swirled for nearly thirty seconds before finally coalescing into a bright spot of light. When the light faded, there was a bracelet there, with multiple charms attached to it.

As Elodie picked it up, Remus stood, but she didn’t feel as bereft as she’d expected to. He seemed almost as surprised as she was to see the gifts that appeared beside her.

“Well that’s unexpected,” he said when she held up the bracelet. “I tried to create a copy of your favorite book!”

Elodie wondered what sort of power it would have taken to pull a copy of the book that formed the basis for  _ this _ universe out of her own. The bracelet that formed instead was made of silver links with delicate charms that hung from them at regular intervals. She held it up and saw a lightning bolt, a moon, a paw print, a cat, and a book. Then, she saw the symbol for the Deathly Hallows, perfectly in proportion to the rest of the silver shapes. There were about four or five other charms, but Elodie let it fall into her palm and closed her fingers. She felt shaken and exposed.

Other readers of the Harry Potter series would instantly recognize the charms she’d seen already, in concert with each other--especially that last one. But would Lupin? Almost certainly not, Elodie decided. They were a little too generic for that. Had his been a wolf, and if there were a rat’s tail left to discover, perhaps.

Remus was still standing beside the bed, looking like he was concentrating. She was sure he was trying to work out exactly what had happened. With the weight of her mother’s illness and death looming in the ‘Soon’ category of Things Elodie Needs To Deal With, she chose instead to open her hand and look at the remaining charms.

A tiny cauldron hung next to a perfectly formed ball of yarn with a knitting needle stuck through it. Elodie hoped that meant she would meet Molly Weasley (or any of that family, really) someday soon. There was a pennant with an H on it ( _ Hogwarts for sure _ , Elodie said to herself), an  _ eyeball _ with what looked like a miniature belt around it ( _ Mad-eye Moody!? _ ), and finally, what looked like a badge.

“That’s an Auror badge,” Remus said. She looked up to see him hunched over, peering at the bracelet with great interest.

“There’s a Hogwarts symbol, too, I think?” Elodie said, on impulse. She singled out the pennant and held it for him to see, the other charms conveniently clasped in her fingers out of sight. “If this is a stand-in for that history book I set on fire--”

“I doubt that!” Remus said, laughing. “But maybe something like a specific single book as a favorite is something that doesn’t signify for you. Maybe my magic created a wearable compilation?”

Elodie felt a sense of relief that was so strong it felt tangible. She metaphorically pulled it, along with the blanket she was already wrapped in, up over her arms, burying her hands and the bracelet inside them deep in the folds.

“Well, there’s a cauldron and a cat in there as well, and those are definitely applicable,” she said without thinking. Her sense of what to avoid saying clicked in just a few seconds too late, but she could tell that Remus was still mulling over the mystery of its appearance, rather than the significance of each charm. Eager to keep him from thinking over what she’d just said, Elodie spoke again. “This was all very thoughtful, thank you. I’d almost forgotten why I needed it.”

“I lost my mother when I was young, but my father… I lost him as an adult. I was an adult when he died, that is to say,” Remus said, crossing back to his chair and sitting down on it. His adjusted comment wasn’t lost on Elodie, but then, she knew that Remus Lupin’s father had not been a kind man to his werewolf son. “--not the sort of thing you’re ever prepared for,” Remus was saying when she’d tuned back in.

“My father died--gosh, it was just last year,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly explain how odd it is to basically ‘wake up’ in what feels like fifteen years in the past. I loved him very much, so that made losing him painful in a way that I suppose is different, if you weren’t on good terms.”

Remus blinked at her for a minute, then gave a slow, rueful smile. “You’re perceptive,” he noted. “We weren’t close. I felt guilty that I didn’t feel worse about it, to be frank.”

“I feel guilty, too. I missed my mother already, being so far away--but for me, I’ve gotten over her loss once already. It had been nine years, almost,” Elodie said. “It’s like being given just the most glorious gift, the kind a grieving person wants so much…” She trailed off, feeling the weight of her mother’s loss breaking back out of the locked box she’d hidden it in just minutes ago. It was uncontainable, and she knew she’d soon be in tears. “Everyone wants to just miraculously wake up and find their loved one not gone. And I  _ did _ . And then I took that gift for granted!”

“Being cursed is very different than turning time back, Elodie,” Remus tried to say, but she interrupted him before he’d gotten to the second syllable of her name.

“You don’t understand, Remus. I was  _ torn _ ,” she confessed, her voice wavering between a whisper and just above one. “What kind of a person--what does that  _ say _ about me? That I considered not going?”

“It says that you care deeply about whatever you chose to cast the penalty spell on,” Remus told her, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re forgetting the dangerous parts entirely, you know,” he admonished her.

Elodie scoffed. “She’s my mother! It would only have been a few years’ penalty.” She meant to go on, but Remus didn’t let her.

“Albus says you’re meant to be twenty-one years old, you said you have memories of fifteen years past that,” he broke in. “ _ Overnight _ , fifteen years. Now you shake off ‘a few more years’ as though it’s not your  _ life _ . Do you not see why that would worry us?”

“She’s my  _ mother _ , Remus!” Elodie repeated. She waved a hand in the air as if brushing off his concern, standing up with her blanket cocoon, and starting to pace along one of the longer planks of wood in the hardwood floor. “And I’m not twenty-one. I don’t even remember what it’s like to be twenty-one. What I  _ do _ remember is my mother’s Muggle funeral. What it felt like, not to have a real goodbye.”

“You act like you’re arguing between two penalties, but you’re not. If you’d done this, you’d have experienced both, and more besides,” he said quietly. She looked over at him, and he held up one finger. “Firstly, you’d have activated your cursed spell. It’s unpredictable, I gather, so there’s no knowing exactly how badly you would be affected. Secondly,” he held up another finger, “you’d be traveling a great distance just after experiencing not one, but  _ two _ aging curses. Thirdly,” Remus held up the count for her to see. “Thirdly, you’d be exposing yourself to Dragon Pox.” He wordlessly added a fourth finger.

“Fourthly, I’d be putting myself within Francis’s grasp again. All right,” she acquiesced. “It’s  _ all _ bad. But I put myself in the position--”

Remus stood up, shaking his head. He wore a look full of righteous indignation, which on him meant a laser focus and the kind of moral displeasure one usually only found in one’s own parents. “You put yourself in only  _ one _ of those positions! The others were beyond your control, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Stop beating yourself up for the single one that was in your control--it didn’t even come into play!”

Elodie crossed her arms, then uncrossed them when she realized that she always crossed her arms when she was unwilling to admit someone else was right.

“It’s the choice itself that’s the problem,” she argued. Just because her body language had acceded his point didn’t mean she couldn’t argue against it. “I wasn’t thinking, I would have really hurt her. I told myself I could have just found a way around it, and not gone into it, but that would have felt like--”

“Lying,” Remus finished for her.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t,” he said flatly. He was standing tall in her room, filling it with the strength of his personality. His authority and the way he wielded it was extremely attractive, but his attitude also had a great wealth of conviction, too.  _ Don’t _ , he said, as in don’t lie to your loved ones. There he was, proof that holding back had disastrous, destructive effects on the people you held back from. If he’d known Sirius hadn’t been the Secret Keeper, he could have fought for his friend, even if he’d lost. He would have known, really  _ known _ , where the injustice lay. It wouldn’t have festered in him, wouldn’t have left him alone without the friends he’d thought he’d known.

“Is it  _ always _ lying if you keep something--”

“Just… don’t?” Remus said, this time framing it as a request. They held each other’s gaze for a long, long moment, and every second of it, Elodie felt like she could feel the tether of friendship fraying under the weight of what she hadn’t told him. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, at length.

“There’s a rolodex of platitudes I’m scrolling through to answer that, but honestly? I’m going to go to sleep. With any luck I’ll wake up tomorrow, with however many hours or years it’ll feel like I’ve gone through between me and what Albus told me.” Elodie walked over and traced her fingers across a leaf of her new baby Jade plant. “I’ll put this right where I can see it, first thing,” she told Remus.

“And this,” he said, pulling a full bar of chocolate from a pocket. He cast a spell on it that she assumed was meant to combat any melting due to body warmth, and handed it to her. “Half now, half in the morning,” he said seriously.

“Yes, Dr. Lupin,” Elodie said, flashing him a crooked smile. “Tomorrow, you should teach me that warming charm, too. I’m always afraid I’ll set myself on fire in the middle of the night!”

“I will,” he promised. Elodie waved awkwardly as he nodded a goodbye and left, shutting her door behind him.

_ I’m lying to him by omission. In multiple ways, even, _ Elodie thought to herself, miserably.  _ I’ve lost my mom again, and I’m about to lose my new friend _ . 

It was four days until he needed to take the first dose of Wolfsbane.  
  


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Elodie woke to the sound of four tweeting, screeching, and meowing alarms. She lay still and listened, unsure whether to laugh hysterically, scream in frustration, or cry until she was dehydrated. Instead, she got up, silenced each alarm but one, then carried the tweeting thing down the stairs with her, toward the potion room. She didn’t come across anyone on her journey.

It was only after she walked inside and saw Mellie’s magical calendar, magically re-adjusted for the speed-up spell she and Horace had cast, that she realized she didn’t have anything she needed to do with it today. It was then that she remembered waking in the middle of the night and frantically conjuring the alarms, certain that she would forget to stir the potion and thus completely negate the sacrifice she’d made not going to her sick mother. Elodie was never particularly good at thinking when she was really sleepy, but this was quite a doozy--she’d successfully cast spells, while at the same time forgetting that the very reason she’d cast them was negated by the penalty spell. Once she and Horace had been successful in casting it, the stirring phase had been completed. The second Wolfsbane wouldn’t need stirring for a while yet.

Elodie left the potions the way she’d found them and snuck back up to her room using the staff staircase. When she got there, she had another realization, but this one was more mundane: conjured items could be de-conjured. Violently.

One by one, she obliterated each of her conjured alarms. It was incredibly satisfying.

Then, she laid back down on her bed sideways and piled her two pillows on her head. Within minutes, she’d fallen back to sleep.

 

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Remus wasn’t at lunch, but she’d gone later than she usually did, and it wasn’t like she  _ owned _ him or anything, she told herself. What she did own, after a fashion, was their scheduled meet-up in the courtyard to read, every other day. It was almost that time, so she looked for one of her library books to bring down with her. Then, she remembered the agreement she’d made with herself about those courtyard reading appointments: that every other time, she needed to bring a book to teach herself something. And today’s book was… less than inspiring.

“I should have looked for a book called  _ Witches Who Hate Fashion Teach Proper Grooming _ or something,” Elodie grumbled. It wasn’t that the spells and advice in the book weren’t helpful, it was that they were written  _ by _ someone who loved hair, makeup, and fashion spells,  _ for  _ people who loved hair, makeup, and fashion spells. Which Elodie was not. So she had the dual difficulty of not understanding half of the terminology while at the same time finding the tone alternatively boring and over her head. She loved  _ looking _ at people who were ‘with it’ when it came to fashion and looking good. She just didn’t find the process of getting there anywhere as interesting as the author of  _ Grooming For Gorgeous Girls _ did.

It didn’t help that she’d just picked up the first book at the library that looked like it covered what she needed.

As she grabbed her book and started for the door, she caught a glimpse of the ridiculous cover, which had the word ‘gorgeous’ in huge font, with spirals of sparkles around it. Elodie was not interested in being seen reading it, but she still needed the information it contained. She also wasn’t completely sure the library was close enough to her potion room to be within the 200ish yards she was held to. She frowned and looked at the blasted book for a minute until she remembered the way she’d spelled her borrowed history book as a joke.

“Pride and Prejudice it is!” she declared. The definitive film version was, in her eyes, the Colin Firth version, which came out in 1995, she remembered. That meant they were,  _ holy shit _ , probably filming it somewhere right now. “Every time I have a tough morning from now on, I’m just going to pretend they’re filming that lake scene,” Elodie told herself. Then, she stood still and let a wave of grief crash over her. Her mother had loved that miniseries, and Elodie had often teased her that she was every bit as boisterous and annoying as Mrs. Bennet, even though that wasn’t remotely true. Did a magical Laurel Merriman even know about that series? Given that Remus Lupin had more than a passing familiarity with certain Muggle pieces of media, it was possible. She really hoped so.

Elodie took a look at the altered book, moving it this way and that to be sure the illusion held. It did, and the inside remained the antithesis of the outer cover, in her opinion. Perfect. Given her own mother’s lack of skills in the makeup department, it was a fitting tribute, she thought.

Two of the older residents were playing Wizard’s Chess in the corner she could see from her room. The rest of the courtyard was empty except for Remus, who was sitting in a sunny spot across from the dining room. He’d chosen a section with two chairs fairly close together, but a little ways apart from any of the other seating arrangements. He looked up and smiled at her when she came over, but didn’t say anything, and neither did she.

Elodie kneeled on the seat cushion and tucked her feet underneath her, opening her book to the section on cleansing hair without damaging it. After a minute, she set the book down and slipped her sandals off, setting them on the floor in front of her chair. She permitted herself a peek in Remus’s direction, and saw that he was also reading. The book was thicker than she’d seen the other day, but she couldn’t make out the title. As she watched him, his face broke out in a brilliant smile, and he chuckled, smoothing out the page in front of him.

Seeing him happy like that helped her own mood. He had suffered a lot at the end of the school year, and being that he was so private, she wondered if that weighed on him at all. She didn’t really know him enough to be able to tell.

She turned back to her own book. The author was talking about two different complex cleansing spells that each had their own virtues, which the author simply assumed that her readers already knew about. Elodie grumbled about this under her breath. She turned the page, hoping that there would be a detailed description of the spells, but on that page, Ceciliana Chanel ( _ That has to be an alias! _ she thought to herself, annoyed) had moved on to the six different ways--charms, spells, and one secret Muggle remedy!--that she personally used to get glitter out of her hair.

“Nothing else about simple dirt? How many times is the average witch going to have glitter in her hair?!” Elodie complained aloud. Then, she winced and looked up. Lupin had heard her, and was looking over, squinting at her lap, probably trying to make out the title of her book. Elodie smiled brightly, cramming the book beside her leg against the chair where he couldn’t see it. When he smiled back at her and turned to his own book, she mentally wiped the sweat off her brow and cracked hers open again. Just this once, she’d decided studiously ignore the whole ‘deliberately meeting to chat about our books’ part of the reason she was out there sitting next to him in the first place.

Elodie flipped past the part about cleaning hair, looking for something about tidy, simple hairstyles. Preferably ones that kept the hair looking neat without it needing to be crammed up into a ponytail. This section was far more helpful, and she pulled out her notebook and started writing down the wand movements and charms she found the most interesting.

“Are you taking a class on classic Muggle literature?” 

Remus had gotten up from his chair to see why she was acting so strangely, and in the process, he’d clearly seen her book’s title and the fact that she was taking notes. Elodie snatched up her notebook and held it to her chest.  _ So much for playing off the weird, Elodie! _ she told herself.

“No,” she said, waiting for her usual talent of coming up with excuses to present her with a good explanation for her strange behavior. None was forthcoming. He came up behind her and rested a hand on the back of her chair. He rested his other hand beside the first, and with it came his own book.

“Differential Applications of Shield Charms,” Elodie read aloud. She looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow. “That book looks truly hilarious.”

“I was actually reading a letter,” he said, having the grace to look ashamed. “It’s a bit precious to me, I didn’t want it to blow away.” 

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have teased you. If it helps, I’m a complete fraud. I am trying to learn some hair taming spells and grabbed this book for giggling teenaged witches.” Elodie said the spell-releasing charm and showed him the book. “I wanted to enjoy the weather but there was no way I was going to sit out here holding up that cover.”

He came around and sat on the edge of his chair beside her again. “I can’t say that I blame you. That sparkle is really something.”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to spellcast your letter? There are plenty of charms that won’t damage the material properties,” she suggested. As soon as she said it, she realized what his real reason was, most likely. A letter from Sirius Black wouldn’t be something he wanted anyone else to see. Remus hadn’t responded, and she rushed to tell him to forget her suggestion. He wasn’t paying attention, though; he looked like he was re-reading through the letter itself, still held up inside the protective pages of his decoy book.

When he saw she was watching him, he stuck his finger in to hold the page, and shut the book. “I was just checking. My friend is a bit of a practical joker. It wouldn’t be out of the question for him to spell the paper with something to cause trouble, so I generally keep from charming them, just in case.”

“That’s the best--for varying values of ‘best,’--kind of friend,” Elodie said, grinning at him.

Remus looked down at the letter and smiled, a little sadly. “Absolutely,” he said. “I’m looking forward to getting more of these.”

Elodie felt a pang of guilt. She knew far too much about his life than was proper, and thus often the things he said made her feel guilty because she knew exactly what he was alluding to.

“Well, as a  _ new _ friend of yours, I will hope you do, too. Reading it made your face light up,” she said, adding, “I apologize if that’s too personal of me to notice.”

“Actually, it means a great deal to hear that,” Remus said, standing up and putting one of his hands in his pocket, his book and letter held up against his chest in a relaxed stance. “This friendship,” he said, holding up the letter-encased book, “is a good one. One I am very grateful to have regained.”

Even though she knew who it probably was, and thus why Remus would describe it that way, she still must have looked distressed, despite trying to hide it.

“Don’t worry, Elodie, I wasn’t done wrong,” Remus said, a sad, wistful smile on his face that made her wish she could do something for him. He patted the book against his leg and shook his head. “Unfortunately, it was the other way around.”

He walked away too fast for Elodie to really say anything, and his casual acceptance of how he saw his role in Sirius’s incarceration was painful to watch. But, what could she say? The revelation of Peter as the true Secret Keeper was something Elodie herself had known about for years by now. Remus hadn’t even known about it for a full moon cycle. 

Speaking of a moon cycle, Elodie knew she now had just three days to tell him about the Wolfsbane that was being brewed for him, and she still had absolutely no idea how to do that without destroying their friendship entirely.

_ At least he’ll have Sirius’s letters _ , she told herself sadly before turning back to her glittery monstrosity of a book.

 

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Elodie didn’t see Remus that evening at dinner, but she did see him at breakfast. He gave a little wave in greeting when she walked in the door, and she walked over to say hello, as the line for the pastry table was a bit long.

“That’s a genuine Elodie morning smile,” he told her as she came near.

“Oh dear,” she said, frowning. “I fear what qualifies it as genuine! Wait. I didn’t actually say that. Never mind.”

“Well,” he started, and she shook her head vigorously at him, waving him off with her hands. It didn’t do any good. “Other morning Elodies seem to be grumpy, or at the very least, un-caffeinated, but  _ this _ one--”

“I’m walking away, you’re going to have to stop,” she protested. She just did just that, but heard Remus still talking as she picked up a plate at the pastry buffet. Then she spied his favorite chocolate bread, clearly just brought out from the kitchen, and remembered he didn’t have any on his plate. She grabbed a napkin and three slices, then covered them and populated her plate as normal.

When she came back to the table, the only other resident who’d been sitting at the table was gone, and she sat down beside Remus.

“Before you go back to elaborating your theory of Elodies,” she said, holding up a hand. “Know that I have an offering for your silence.”

“But I was just getting to the place where I was pointing out your socks matched, today,” he said, looking disappointed and impish all at once.

In response, she slid one slice of chocolate bread out from its hiding place and took a huge bite.

Remus held a hand to his chest and leaned over close. “You  _ monster _ ,” he whispered. It was a ruse. While she was laughing at him, he reached over with his big hand and grabbed the napkin  _ and _ its hidden contents from her plate before she could stop him.

“Offering accepted,” he said, around his own enormous bite.

“I’m considering it fair only because you didn’t steal it with magic,” Elodie told him. His wide grin in response made her heart skip several beats. Her pulse only settled down after another pair of residents sat at their table and engaged both Elodie and Remus in conversation, but the mild sense of danger related to her emotional reactions to him stayed in the background.

It was going to be the full moon week, and soon. She didn’t really know as much about werewolves as she’d wanted to at this point, but she did know that there was a documented sense of emotional sensitivity related to hormonal scents and body language that she had to be prepared for. To a certain extent, it might be to her advantage--people were fools in love, after all. But to excuse her lying to him as a product of simply being attracted to him, that seemed like a ridiculous cop-out, and one someone as intelligent and perceptive as Lupin would figure out easily.

_ I am NOT falling in love with him, anyway _ , Elodie told herself.  _ I’m just attracted to the qualities I liked when I called him my favorite character. It’s just a translation error. _

It wasn’t, and she knew that deep down, but that lie just made her bigger lies more obvious, which left her feeling even worse. 

 

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Escapism wasn’t  _ the _ answer, but it was  _ an _ answer, so Elodie employed it, unhappily.

She cooped herself up in her room, practicing spells almost by rote, now, her mind a mess of excuses and recriminations. She missed dinner and spent almost an hour just sitting in the Wolfsbane room at dinner time, wishing she was in her room, wishing Remus was knocking on the door, asking where she was, or how she was doing. Instead, she sat and stared at the glowing anklet, its purple glow at its brightest and happiest when she was in the room with the potion it was tied to.

She forgot to cover it back up when she made her way back to her room after dark. As luck would have it, Remus was in the entryway speaking with another resident when she walked past, and she caught his concerned look as she started up the stairs. She was almost all the way up them by the time he’d extricated himself from his conversation.

“Hey,” he said, uncharacteristically awkward.

“Hi.” She didn’t feel helpful, which felt terribly rude, which in turn made her cross.

“That’s pretty powerful magic, but you already knew that,” Remus said, nodding at her ankle. He leaned against the thick bannister and looked at her with a direct, but not unkind, expression.

“You’re right,” Elodie said. All at once she felt extremely, ridiculously tired. Tired enough to fuck up and tell him more than she wanted to. Instead, she fell back on her list-making habits. “It’s related to the penalty spell,” she said. ( _ Item #1: distract with truth.) _ “It’s a distance minder, basically. It’ll be off in just over a week, don’t worry.” ( _ Item #2: reassure.) _ “I’m still not going to tell you what it’s related to, but I appreciate the concern.” ( _ Item #3: validate.) _ “Good night, Remus. Grief just makes me a bitch, sometimes. It’s not personal.”  _ (Items #4 & #5: be self-deprecating, and be firm.) _

“Good night, then. I’m hoping to see Albus tomorrow, maybe I’ll see you then? Or at our book time, weather permitting.” He nodded a respectful goodbye, then turned and walked back down the stairs. 

Elodie sighed. She’d sent Albus an Owl asking, apologetically, if he’d tell Remus about the Wolfsbane. It was beyond hope that Dumbledore would do so without crediting Elodie, but she’d sent the message hoping that somehow that would be what the older wizard would suggest. After all, couldn’t she just prepare the goblet it was to be drunk in, then leave it out beside the cauldron for him to find, every night?

In truth, though, Albus would probably not understand her reticence, and he probably had a point. For all that Albus Dumbledore was a major plot mover in his own story, though, he didn’t know everything that had led up to what had happened on Halloween in 1981. He wouldn’t have had to live as a werewolf all of those years since, feeling betrayed and hurt. He wouldn’t have had to give up on any idea of getting Sirius Black out of prison, or of at the very least speaking with him in Azkaban to ask the all-important question of WHY? He wouldn’t have had every single relationship since then feel completely dominated by his lycanthropy.

Remus had, and at some point in the next two days, he was going to revisit that last point.

 

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The next day dawned stormy, like her mood. Albus dropped by, and as Elodie had predicted, he didn’t understand why she was concerned, and basically refused to tell her he would set anything up to obscure her hand in brewing the Wolfsbane.

So by midmorning, there she was, sitting in the brewing room, staring at Mellie’s calendar and waiting for the other shoe to fall. She’d been proud of herself for successfully ‘copying and pasting’ the whole calendar to the second potion, but she hadn’t realized all the bells and whistles that her counterpart had baked into the original. There was now a bright blue glow on tomorrow’s space.

 

FIRST DAY! Must be drunk before moonrise every day this week!

 

This she already knew, of course. Seeing it there with the glow and the exclamation points reminded her that she’d succeeded in doing something truly noteworthy while at the same time avoiding something incredibly important. Elodie just hoped she had the strength of character to go through with everything she planned to say today.

The knock on her door came just as she expected it would, about an hour after Albus had left her room.

“I’ll be right there,” she called out. She wondered if it was Remus by himself or if Albus had accompanied him.

“Elodie?” Remus sounded very surprised. “I… I must have the wrong room. Sorry to disturb.”

By the time she’d gotten to the door to open it, Remus wasn’t in the hallway anymore. Elodie’s heartbeat was racing as she leaned out of the doorway and looked quickly along both sides of the hall. It looked like Albus had basically tricked her into telling Remus herself by assumption, given how Remus had reacted to hearing her voice inside.

Around the corner, just out of sight, the door to the outside creaked loudly as it shut. It was very important to her plan that she speak to him now, before he had time to think about everything. She raced down the hallway and out the door into the pouring rain.

“Remus!” she called out, seeing him on the stone path ahead of her. He turned, and she rushed over to stand in front of him, the rain already dripping in various paths along her face, down her nose, and off her chin. It was time to tell him she was sorry for how she’d handled everything, but she didn’t have the words.

For his part, Remus didn’t say anything either. She watched the raindrops systematically soaking his shirt from its light blue to a darker one, the rivulets meeting and crossing until only tiny patches of dryness remained. Soon, they too were swallowed up by the steady, thick rain. Finally, she looked up at him. Like her, he made no effort to stop the rain from falling on his face, and they stood there, drenched, and waited for the other to speak.

“Who will break first?” Remus finally said, throwing his shoulders back to stretch them a bit before sliding his wet hands into his sodden trouser pockets.

“I think you just did,” Elodie said with a sad smile. “But before you say anything else, will you shake my hand?” she asked. The sound of the rain hitting the roof of the building just beside them obscured how desperate she imagined her voice sounded.

“Why?” he asked, looking utterly confused.

“Because I want to say goodbye to my friend,” Elodie said.

Confusion dropped from his face, replaced by something resembling anger. “Why on Earth would you need to do that?” He shook his head as if he wished he could shake free of the argument and the water.

“Because I’ve been lying to you,” she told him. In a strange way, her heart ached with outrage against what she’d done, almost as strongly as her regret in having done it in the first place. “I lied by deflection, I’ve lied by omission--I have lied in so many ways that I can’t count them all. But even worse, I  _ planned  _ to lie to you, before I ever met you.” Elodie reached out her right hand toward him. “Friendships aren’t build on lies, Remus, so shake my hand.” She held her hand as steady as she could, as the chill of the rain was starting to sink in.

“Elodie, what? Look--I’ll consider it, okay? But first,” Remus came over and put an arm around her shoulder, walking the two of them back toward the door they’d exited. “Out of the rain. At least show me the potions room first? I don’t want to damage anything.”

She felt like he was humoring her, and she did feel rather melodramatic as they went back inside, leaving a rain-soaked trail of scattered drops on the hallway floor. He moved his arm from her shoulders to just a slight presence at her back, as though reassuring her he was still there as she unlocked the door. After they went in, he quickly cast a drying charm on himself, then offered to cast it on her. She shook her head; she felt she kind of needed to feel the damp, permeating wet, as a way to keep her focus. 

Melodramatic or not, there was more going on for her than just distress about having lied. She felt like her heart was involved, now. Remus had commented to her less than a week ago that he felt less lonely with a friend to chat with, especially one who loved books. It had dawned on her then that just spending time with him could be putting her own favorite books in danger.

This situation, this was her chance to maintain the timeline. To pull herself out of ruining the way things should go. A lonely Remus Lupin would go to Order meetings, he’d meet Nymphadora Tonks, he’d fall in love with her despite his better judgment. She had to make that happen, because as much as she hated the way things went for him in some ways, she feared the unknown so very much more. 

She also feared that she would fall in love with him so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to bear to watch those events play out. She refused to let herself believe she’d already done exactly that.

Remus walked over and examined the Wolfsbane cauldron at a respectful distance. She saw his head turn to look at Mellie’s calendar, and she explained the safety measure of appearing blank to strangers.

“Did Albus tell you to lie?” he said, still facing away from where she stood by the door, shivering.

“No,” she said softly. “If he had, I’m sure he’d have had me brew it somewhere else.”

Remus moved to the second table. She came up behind him, not knowing whether to explain anything she thought he might want to know, or wait until he asked her. 

Suddenly Remus turned, gesturing to the two tables, and then at himself. “Well, you obviously didn’t lie out of fear of werewolves!”

“No.  _ Never _ ,” she said, shaking her head, shedding rainwater as she did so.

“Ellie, I’m not sure why you’re trying to convince me to be angry at you.” Her heart thrilled at his use of her favorite nickname, but she wouldn’t make eye contact. “Your even being upset at all shows what a true friend you are--you’re upset at yourself, right? For not telling me what you knew.” He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, and she couldn’t resist looking up at him. His agitation was persuasive, his words a ringing truth. “But  _ I _ knew. And  _ I  _ didn’t tell you. I’m the danger. I’m the one who should have been warning  _ you _ .  _ I’m _ the werewolf!“

_ I was foolish to think I could manipulate him _ , Elodie told herself. Out loud, she said, “You aren’t a danger. And you won’t be.” She pointed to the cauldrons. “Albus told me a former student turned Professor would be needing Wolfsbane. The affection in his voice was clear. I trust Albus, and I knew he would have warned me if there was any danger.”

“And you knew I’d just lost a job,” he said, releasing her shoulders and taking her hands up to warm them in his.

“I couldn’t imagine that introduction! ‘Hello, I’m Elodie, and you’re a werewolf. Would you like some tea?’” She shook her head, then stopped as the movement led to a great big drip to slide down beside her nose.

“Hold still,” Remus ordered, and she didn’t protest as he cast both a drying and a warming spell on her. “I can’t speak for the effect on any grooming spells,” he teased. 

“Yeah, well. You know me!” she said, running her fingers through her dry, staticky hair and twisting it to rest on one shoulder.

“I do know you, actually,” Remus said lightly. He pulled over the room’s single chair, and she sat in it at his insistence. He then walked over and rested his back along the wall. “Which is why I was so thrown by your--how best to put it? ‘Friendship self-destruct charm’ isn’t quite the phrase.”

“Well, here’s where I have more to confess. I’ve been doing some reading about Harry Potter, as I mentioned the day I met you. The wizarding community in America is pretty isolationist, and there was a lot I didn’t know about the first war with You Know Who. There are a lot of books, but only one listed  _ three _ names, as James Potter’s possible choices for Secret Keeper. That the third name was the same name as Albus’s friend who needed Wolfsbane, well. That told me everything I thought I needed to know.” Elodie shook her head, holding back a sigh. The mistakes she’d made, those awful  _ assumptions _ were so clearly a mistake that now that she couldn’t believe she’d made them. “In retrospect, I was being cruel, but I just thought, here is a man who has every right to turn his back on anyone who lies to him. Especially after the year he’s just had.” 

She got up and walked over to where Remus was standing and said, miserably but simply: “I’m sorry.” 

Elodie wasn’t sure if Remus was going to say anything, but he did incline his head in acknowledgement. She put her left hand on the doorknob, but he reached out and stopped her with his right hand. 

“Take it from me, Elodie, please: it’s  _ not _ better to lose your friends before they have a chance to really hurt you.”

She nodded, feeling an ache in the back of her throat as she swallowed her urge to cry.

“So basically, today you found out your new friend has been lying to you since you met her, and then she tried to abandon the friendship when she realized you’d figured it out?” She clonked her head against the wall next to him. “Scraping the bottom of the barrel here, Lupin.”

Her body leaning toward the wall had trapped his arm beneath her, as his hand was still holding hers steady on the doorknob. Now, he slid that arm up to curl around her waist and pull her in a hug against his side.

“That doesn’t qualify as worst by a long shot, Merriman,” he said, against the top of her head. When he let go, she was flushed, which she hoped was obscured by her hair against her face and the dim light of the room. 

“Don’t forget,” Remus added. “I also found out my new friend has been brewing a difficult and dangerous potion for me for over a month, since before she met me. And she wasn’t afraid of my being a werewolf, despite--”

“That last one is basic human decency, so I’m going to stop you there,” Elodie said, pulling away gently before walking over to drag the chair back to its position against the far wall. “And it was less than a month. Okay, what time tomorrow do you want to come by for dose #1? I’m sure you’re well aware of how awful it tastes, so might I suggest  _ after _ dinner?”

Remus had a strange look on his face, like he was working out a math problem that didn’t compute, but he nodded.

“Definitely after. Nothing will ruin my love for Winnifred’s chocolate bread,” he insisted. 

“That’s it, I’m going to have to find a really amazing recipe for chocolate--what do you call them here, biscuits, not cookies, right?” Elodie said. “Never tell a baker that your favorite baked item is by someone else. That is basically declaring war!”

“That’s a war I’d be happy to be a casualty in,” Remus told her. There wasn’t anything her heart would allow her to do in response but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story, could you pop me a review? It's a rare thing to get such an awesome response for an OFC story, and I appreciate it, but I'll totally admit to being insecure about this story. Encouragement would totally not go astray, if you'll bless me with it!


	8. Caretaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just HAD to post this, even if I'd just posted a chapter recently. Because this chapter? Is one of my very, very favorites.
> 
> Readers, I present to you (eventually, it's a long chapter), Sirius Black.

The next day was the first dose of Wolfsbane, but Elodie wasn’t dreading it anymore. She felt a gorgeous freedom after waking up that morning, and the feeling followed her through the breakfast where she and Remus argued about the fairness of Quidditch supplies at Hogwarts--

“It’s fundamentally  _ unfair _ that some students have the best brooms, and others have to make do with school rentals!” she’d argued.

“If a good broom can make that much of a difference in  _ school _ , then that child is not good enough to advance past their school team anyway!” Remus had pointed out, with much more passion than she’d expected.

“What  _ is _ it with men thinking that school sports is only the first stepping stone to a career!” Elodie had thrown up her hands in disgust.

“Well, it  _ is _ ,” Remus had grumbled.

\--on through a table-wide discussion at lunch about the Quidditch World Cup, which would be hosted in England that summer. Here, Elodie had stayed mostly quiet and observed, though she had to give it to Remus’s luck in arguments, as Viktor Krum’s amazing abilities as a school-aged seeker in the professional gaming arena was pointed out repeatedly.

Later, it was time for their two-person book club in the courtyard, but here again, Elodie and Remus seemed oddly attuned to each other, as neither ended up actually bringing a book.

“I’m completely out of good options, unless I bust out the sparkle nonsense from two days ago,” Elodie said. “I need to hit the library, but I think it’s too far for my anklet.” She held up her leg to show him, as she’d forgone the sock she usually used to hide it. Even just outside of the building, it was more yellow green than it had been in the dining room.

“I’m a little too anxious for anything deep right now, myself,” Remus told her. “I always feel like I’m a new fireplace about to be connected to the Floo Network around this time. Every possible connection made possible by my condition comes slowly to life over the next few days.”

“Like growing ten new ears, or something?” Elodie suggested, teasing.

“Actually that’s pretty accurate. In a few days I could probably tell if you’re anxious about something by how quickly your blood flows, and how often. I can almost hear that, the day before.”

“New smells, too?” she asked, a bit afraid to hear his answer.

Remus brushed his hair back away from his eyes as he stretched his hands over his head for a long minute. He definitely seemed more restless than she was used to seeing him.

“Yes, new smells. But it doesn’t  _ feel _ like smells, if that makes any sense.” He stopped talking as one of the married couples that lived at Hollyfield walked past them, nodding in greeting. “How far  _ can _ you go? I don’t mind talking it through, Merlin knows it’s been forever since I’ve been able to vocalize any of this,” Remus said in a quiet voice.

“In through the woods a ways, at the very least,” Elodie told him. “The monitor will shine bright, clear yellow if I approach too far.”

“Walk with me?” Remus said, standing and holding out a hand to help her up.

She wished she could claim a reason to keep his hand, but after she’d stood, she let go, and so did he.

They passed Hollyfield’s perimeter wall and walked along the path, then when the green was nearly all gone from her magical monitor and Elodie started to feel anxious, they turned back toward Hollyfield, but off of the path, into the woods. When she was able to breathe normally again, they came across a little collection of rocks. Remus cast some spells to clear them of standard forest debris.

“Thank you, Remus,” she told him, settling cross-legged on the tallest one. When he lifted a single eyebrow and looked slightly cross, she pointed out, “If  _ you _ sit at the tallest one, I’ll get a crick in my neck looking up at you!”

“I could just magic mine taller, you know,” he said, choosing a slightly shorter one and sitting down rather petulantly, she thought.

“Yeah, but you won’t.”

As usual, when Remus was uncomfortable for some reason, he changed the subject. This time, he chose something that made  _ Elodie _ uncomfortable.

“Thank you, for the Wolfsbane. If I haven’t said. I really can’t thank you enough.” 

“Cut that out,” Elodie said sternly. “I’m  _ honored _ to. I was honored to when Albus asked me, before I even knew you in person. Now that I do, add ‘delighted’ to the list. You’re well worth it. So cut it out, got it?”

“I promise I will stop speaking my gratitude to you out loud,” Remus recited solemnly.

Elodie narrowed her eyes at him. “Something something ‘what good friends do for each other.’”

_ “Speaking  _ of good friends, I know we walked out to avoid prying ears, but I wanted to ask you, would you be… A friend of mine, I’d like you to meet, but the circumstances are… Well, that’s botched it,” Remus said, after a struggle. 

Elodie decided that the context cues were probably enough for a perceptive person to guess, so she offered an olive branch to help keep Remus from having to muddle through his suggestion.

“Is this the letter friend?” she said, simply. Remus’s look of admiration was one hundred percent unearned, but completely appreciated.

“Yes. I know this is odd, but I’ll need to write to him and ask--his life situation is what one would describe as ‘precarious,’ at best.”

“That seems to be my whole circle at present, absent Albus,” Elodie said, mostly to herself. 

“Agreed. So, how do I explain him to you?” he mused.

Elodie could think of many ways, but none of them were safe enough to escape further scrutiny, so she sat tight.

“Hmm, how about we go with stark truth?”

“Remus, what a novel approach, I’d never have guessed it of you,” Elodie said, tossing a flower she’d been playing with on their walk at his head.

Remus caught it, because of course he did. “So you said yesterday you’d seen the names James Potter could have chosen for a Secret Keeper,” he said quietly, smoothing the petals of the flower between his thumb and forefinger.

“Remus, you don’t have to--” Elodie started to say, getting a sense that the upcoming full moon might make him reckless, and she didn’t want him to regret anything he said.

“My friend for you to meet--it’s Sirius Black. I know where a fugitive is, but he’s the wrong fugitive. He’s innocent. That’s what I had to say. That’s what you felt like you needed to stop me from saying. You’re probably right,” Remus said, all in a headlong rush. He looked down at the flower in his hand and crushed it mercilessly with his other thumb, digging in with the nail until what was left was shredded and unrecognizable.

Elodie was silent for a long time, trying to think of the right thing to say. “God, Remus. What a burden to carry! How long have you known?”

Remus looked up sharply, and he stared at her for a long time, but Elodie just looked right back at him with as much compassion as she could convey. It wasn’t too farsighted a question, because either answer (‘a long, long time,’ or ‘I found out last month’) was  _ awful. _ When he still didn’t speak, Elodie took a risk. She got up, walked over to him, and leaned her hip against his rock. She was lucky in that it was just about hip height for her. 

What she didn’t do (though she just about  _ ached _ to, if she was truthful with herself) was try to touch him, at first. Instead, she just rested there, breathing in the same air, offering her presence. After a few minutes, she tipped her head sideways to rest it against his shoulder. As she thought it might, this broke the dam in him.

“I  _ miss _ them. All three of them,” Remus whispered. “I tried so  _ fucking _ hard not to miss Sirius, I  _ tried. _ I told myself his friendship was a lie, that Peter had been slaughtered, but it just… didn’t take. In the end I missed Sirius most of all, because he was the only one who wasn’t truly gone.”

Remus shifted the arm she was resting against; to her surprise, he slid his arm back and around, so she was resting against his chest, instead, with his arm around her. With her heart in her throat, Elodie reached over covered his hand with hers, hiding the mangled flower. He didn’t pull away.

“James had to choose which of his friends to trust the most, but at the same time, who to target. Whoever he chose would draw the Death Eaters,” Remus said, taking in a ragged breath. “James tried to protect us. He told Sirius and I we were the obvious choices. We, his two closest friends, were obviously closer to him, obviously trustworthy. He didn’t want to force more than one of us into the burden of being the One, and he didn’t want us to deal with the danger of knowing, either. I knew he hadn’t chosen me, but I didn’t know who he  _ did _ pick.” 

“And then, after it happened, the newspapers--” Elodie said softly, but he interrupted her.

“They were wrong. They assumed.” He spat the last word out with contempt.

“So it was Peter, then,” she prompted.

“It was Peter. Quiet, eager to please Peter. Too eager, as it turned out.”

Elodie tried to stand up and give him his space, but Remus’s arm turned to iron.

“You need to be angry, you know. So--” Elodie told him, very narrowly avoiding calling him an endearment. She converted ‘sweetheart’ to ‘so’ at the last second. “Get up. Get angry.”

“I don’t have the luxury of getting angry, Ellie,” he said. “I don’t even have the luxury of getting even.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that.

“I would be both honored and delighted to meet Sirius, if he’s okay with it,” Elodie whispered, many minutes of silence later. “And I’ll keep his secret as long as it needs keeping.”

At this, Remus did a wholly unexpected thing, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Thank you,” he said, against her hair.

Elodie dreaded the moment where he would pull away from her, so she decided to be proactive and be the first to move. “Don’t thank me until after your first dose, my friend. If you don’t dissolve away or turn purple, we can look into gratitude.”

Remus rubbed her arm, and she squeezed her hand against his and stood up. “But first,” he said, sounding more like himself.

“First is dinner,” she finished for him.

“The Last Supper,” he teased.

Elodie had been walking back towards the path when he said this, and she turned around to look at him with her jaw dropped, flabbergasted.

“A bit too on the nose, there, don’t you think?” she finally said.

“Jesus loved Judas every bit as much as the others, I always thought,” Remus said, coming up to her and then walking past, using his long strides to his advantage. He threw his last comment over his shoulder at her. “At least Jesus saw it coming.”

 

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The Wolfsbane was every bit as disgusting tasting and frightening looking as it was meant to be, if brewed correctly. Elodie actually started crying when she saw Remus downing the awful, blue smoke enveloped goblet.

“What?” he asked her, once his grimace from the awful taste had subsided.

“I think I just didn’t expect everything to work out, maybe?” she confessed. “I mean, the facts of the past month are pretty ridiculous. By all rights I should have called a magical HazMat team to come in and clear out that potion, given how much I was  _ not _ qualified to brew it after I woke up essentially a completely different--Muggle--person!”

“Thanks for waiting till  _ after _ I swallowed that to damage my confidence, anyway,” Remus said, walking her to the door of the potions room and elbowing her as he spoke. “If the letter I just got from my friend I told you about is accurate, he says that one of Harry’s classmates used a  _ time turner _ to make sure everything worked out the right way in the end. So, I’m sorry, Miss Merriman, but the events of your past month might not qualify as the strangest I’ve experienced this past June!”

“A time turner?” Elodie let her eyes grow wide, as the concept was one she found completely fascinating, and not  _ just _ because of its application in fanfiction.

“And I didn’t even mention the Dementors.”

Elodie reached up and laid the back of her hand on Remus’s forehead. “I’m prescribing bedrest for you, Mr. Lupin,” she told him pertly. “You’ve clearly had too much of…  _ something, _ today.”

Remus went to open the door, but Elodie called for him to wait, as she’d just thought of something she felt she had to ask.

“I’m sorry--it’s mostly none of my business, but… you do have somewhere safe, nearby? For--”

“The full moon?” he guessed. She nodded. “Yes. I’m not actually Hollyfield’s first of this affliction, though I’m the only one here right now. There are a series of underground cellars, and Winnifred is prepared. I appreciate your asking,” he added.

“I just remembered that it’s not possible to Apparate with the potion in your system, and Hogwarts is so far--”

At this, Remus’s eyebrows shot up, but then he laughed.

“I’m completely unsurprised that you’ve fretted about this in your free time,” he explained. “And yes, there was somewhere at Hogwarts.” He went to open the door again, but then he stopped and leaned his shoulder against it instead, looking thoughtful.

“I simply must get used to the fact that I’ve once again got friends who care enough about my well-being that they suss out all my secrets,” he said. It seemed like he was speaking more to himself than to her, but Elodie was quite edified by his words nonetheless. 

“Not  _ all _ of them, surely?” she said in a teasing tone.

Remus’s gaze traced over her face for a few seconds before he smiled a bit wistfully. “Only the ones I’m conscious of, then. My final offer,” he said, quiet and introspective.

_ I want feel free to fall in love with you, like I would if I really were supposed to be here, with no knowledge of what I’d be changing, _ Elodie thought, looking up at him.

“It’s a deal,” she said, instead.

 

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The next few days were mostly uneventful. Elodie took a break on her spell practicing, not just because she didn’t feel like she should go over to the library until after Remus had completed taking every single day of his Wolfsbane. She was afraid that any indicator of her not quite belonging would cause Remus to pry, using his lycanthropic abilities during that particular week to figure out everything she knew she still had to hide from him.

So the two of them settled into a slightly anxious routine of mostly mindless chats and time spent apart until the day before the actual full moon, when, an hour after Remus had taken his final dose and almost two hours after dinner, there was a loud knocking on Elodie’s door.

She wasn’t in bed, but she had been sitting and quietly rereading her book about werewolves. Usually if Remus knocked at her door, he’d call out to her, and he hadn’t, so Elodie was surprised when she opened it and found him standing there, looking wild-eyed.

“Come in?” she chanced. He looked completely out of sorts, breathing heavily. He looked emotional but not angry. He stood and stared at her before coming in, his eyes tracing her features over and over, as if trying to read her mind.

Elodie realized that he  _ was, _ in a way; he could sense her hormonal changes, especially today, and as she’d just been reading about, werewolves could use their knowledge of body language and chemistry to ‘read’ humans’ responses, so close to the full moon.

To further encourage him to come in, despite the very real danger that he would demand to know everything she could possibly be hiding from him, Elodie backed away from the door and gestured for him to follow her. By now, she had more knowledge of his personality than just what she’d gleaned in sparse references over many books about someone else. She  _ knew _ Remus. He wasn’t fully himself right now, and when he was, tomorrow or the next day, he’d be apologetic, she guessed. She also guessed, though, that he had suspicions.

“Please,” he said, the first words he’d spoken since she’d seen him drink his last dose of Wolfsbane.  _ “Please  _ tell me that what I’ve just figured out is wrong? Please.”

Elodie tried not to come across as maternalistic, but that was very much how she felt, right then. She came over and shut the door behind him, even though he’d barely walked far enough in to clear out of the way as it swung shut. With one hand still resting in the middle of the door, she turned and looked him right in the eyes.

They were ringed with gold.

Elodie shivered, but it wasn’t with fear. Once again she was faced with pure, unadulterated  _ magic. _

Without realizing it, she spoke, reaching her other hand up toward his face. “Wow. Your eyes, they’re gorgeous! Is this part of the--”

With speed he shouldn’t have had (another example of the magic that flowed through him), Remus grabbed her hand and held it still.

“Sit down,” he told her. Gulping, Elodie nodded, and tugged at the hand he was holding. Instead of letting go, he just moved in tandem with her. She circled around to sit down on her bed, and Remus immediately went to his knees in front of her.

Elodie shook her head in confusion, and because he was so very well attuned to her physical responses in that moment, he responded to her without even looking up.

“Don’t be confused, Elodie. I just thought I’d help you take this off.” Remus traced his fingers across the glowing anklet she was still wearing. “You don’t need it anymore after today, do you?” 

Somehow, though the words were accusatory, his tone was not, but the meaning was more than enough. Even conscious as she was of exactly what it would reveal, there was no way to prevent the visceral reaction Elodie felt when he said that. Her heart felt like it stopped, and icy adrenaline streaked through her blood, along her arms, across her torso, down her legs, up into her neck, touching up the flush of shame across her face.

“Remus, dear. Get up,” she whispered. 

He shook his head, thankfully seeming to completely miss the wealth of affection--and not just affection for a  _ friend-- _ in her voice. “I wanted to be wrong. Gods, Elodie, you--”

“Go ahead,” she told him, nodding at her leg, and he tugged the magical piece of jewelry free, rocking back to sit forlornly on the floor as he held it up to her. She felt like she had to try to explain herself. “It’s not shame, how I feel, not really. It’s regret, again for the lying,” she said, still at a whisper. It felt incredibly important to her for him to know the context of her physical reaction, to know what chemical reaction came with which results.

“For me? Not Albus, to ease the fact he didn’t give enough time?” he said, his eyes fixed on the anklet.

Elodie pulled out her wand and cast the spell to close out the spell’s monitoring, and the glowing color faded to the metal’s dull gold.

“Look at me,” she ordered him. “Watch my face, when I answer.” 

For all his half-furious, half-horrified attitude since he’d knocked, Remus looked reluctant, but he raised his gaze to meet hers, albeit hesitantly. Elodie could almost feel a powerful surge of magic mixed with emotion as she answered him in a clear voice, no wavering on her part whatsoever.

“Yes, for you!  _ Of course, _ for you.”

Remus’s eyes widened. She knew he could sense the truth in every molecule within her, and she hoped it wasn’t so far out of proportion with how he saw himself that he’d reject her as foolish. Now, it was up to her, the one with a clear mind and now, a clear conscience, to soften the blow, at least a little.

“At the time, it didn’t seem like anything disproportionate. It felt like it had been  _ years _ since Francis had tried to hurt me, thanks to the fifteen year buffer of memories,” she said, standing. She’d said this part of it to herself so often it felt true now, in an odd way. Elodie held out her hand to Remus, choosing not to try to hide her anxiety about whether or not he’d take it. “What was two weeks of staying near Hollyfield, in the face of what you’d been through, over the course of your condition?” she said, mirroring her words to Albus.

Remus took her hand, but he didn’t actually leverage any of his weight against her as he stood.

“You saved me, you know,” Elodie told him, taking the anklet and tossing it onto her bed. Remus blinked at her, and she told herself it must be getting dangerously close to the full moon. “If I hadn’t have cast that, there would have been hardly anything stopping me from going to Boston. So, thank you,” she said, impulsively lifting up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

The iron strength in Remus’s hands as he reached up with lightning speed to grasp her upper arms and hold her still was breathtaking. Startled, Elodie looked into his eyes and saw they were almost completely golden, now. Trapped as she was, she didn’t feel afraid, because something told her that she could persuade him to release her at any moment. Instead of doing that, though, she indulged an impulse, certain that his mind was probably as fuzzy as his behavior at this point.

Elodie leaned her face up against his and whispered in his ear something she was sure he’d never remember. “It was worth it. Now, you amazing wizard,  _ run! _ ”

At the word ‘run,’ Remus tipped his own head just slightly and ran his nose against her neck. Without the strength of his hands holding her, she’d have collapsed, her knees went so weak. One hand let go, the other cupped her elbow, and Elodie turned bright red. He’d totally sensed  _ that _ , her thrilled reaction just then, but he didn’t look at her. He just steadied her, incredibly gently, and turned and rushed out, leaving the door open behind him.

Elodie closed her eyes and let herself remember, mentally and physically, how those last few seconds had felt, before she let herself fall onto her bed, shaking.

She told herself she hoped he wouldn’t remember, but the truth was, she really wished he  _ would. _

 

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The next morning was Sunday, and Elodie had spent the very early hours trying to remember a recipe that used to be one of her very favorite to give as a housewarming present. It was for hearty oat and honey rolls, using ingredients that most people already had in their kitchens, if they were the sort to keep porridge materials on hand along with other typical baking supplies. Since she’d already known she would have trouble sleeping during the full moon, Elodie had been up with her lists, looking for ways to quantify the things she had planned for the next few weeks.

Meeting Sirius Black was basically number one on her list, but before she did that, she wanted to make the oat rolls. Elodie was hoping she could send them with Sirius to help keep him fed. She knew that having bread was one of the things people took for granted in this day and age, and she just couldn’t picture him stealing bread, even as Padfoot. So, bright and early Sunday morning, the day after the July full moon, Elodie went to the Hollyfield kitchen with a very different plan than she had initially, when she’d been offered the opportunity to bake.

It hadn’t occurred to her to be too worried about asking to make something different--and she had planned to help with the pastry they’d be making, since pastry of the sort they were making needed time to chill anyway--and she was right not to. The two morning bakers were happy to help with her plan, and the three of them worked out the few things she couldn’t remember in the simple recipe. They even found her a small jar of honey that they told her she could give to the recipient of her oat rolls.

With a wrapped package of fresh (chocolate, she’d ensured they’d made some) pastries in her hand, Elodie went looking for Winnifred. The older woman promised she’d make sure Remus got them, though she seemed surprised that Elodie would need her as a go-between. Elodie mostly ignored the implications of this, and thanked her for her help. Then, she went for a long walk to the library, pleasantly surprised to see it open. It was time for  _ The Standard Book of Spells: Grades 6 & 7, _ as well as some books she’d look forward to talking over with Remus, if he’d let her. 

He wasn’t at lunch, and Elodie was standing at the doorway to the dining room dithering about whether she’d be welcome if she packed up a dinner for him when she saw him walk in, looking tired.

“Hey,” she said, when he had come over to stand beside her. She searched his eyes for some sort of censure for her behavior the day before, but saw mostly fatigue.

“There you are,” he said. “Did I yell at you much yesterday? I was actually outside the cellar waiting when I realized something significant.” He stopped talking, and instead, he just looked at her with an expression of someone who wasn’t sure how much trouble they were in.

She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or crushed, but logic told her exactly what to say.

“You were… disappointed. And very distracted. I went with the flow,” she said. “Let’s get some food in you, okay?”

“End of discussion, I get it,” he said. “You lucked out.” He sounded good naturedly grumpy about it, and she laughed.

“I’d say we both did, each in our own way,” Elodie said, but she was faced away from him, already walking. She might still be telegraphing her reactions whether she wanted to or not, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make him work for it.

 

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Elodie was happy she’d made the decision to make her travel bread for Sirius Black that Sunday morning, because on Monday, Remus told her he’d gotten the message from his friend that he’d be happy to meet up the next day. Remus even went and asked the kitchen staff for a picnic lunch, though he told her Monday evening--after Elodie had done the same. So the next day, she went and explained to them what had happened, and by eleven in the morning, she had their picnic lunch in the oversized basket she’d conjured, with the oat rolls in the bottom in a canvas bag, waiting to be given to Sirius.

They’d agreed to meet in a meadow surrounded by trees about twenty minutes’ walk from Hollyfield. Elodie suspected it was a place Remus had found during one of the walks he sometimes took by himself, and she was pleased, because it was far away from anything or any _ one _ who might threaten his friend’s safety. The two of them had started to walk there together, but Remus had forgotten he’d written a letter response to Sirius that he’d decided just to hand him, so he sent Elodie on ahead. She found the area just fine, and laid out the blue plaid blanket in a sunny spot near the center of the meadow.

Elodie found that the longer it was before Sirius Black showed up, the more she fussed at the blanket. Initially, she’d laid it out, set down the basket, then sat herself at a corner, folded her hands in her lap, and waited. After about five minutes, she started poking through the food she’d brought for lunch, and took out the package of oat loaves. She set them aside, taking care that the bag they were in was sturdy so that if he needed to carry them as Padfoot, he’d be able to easily enough. 

Remus arrived about fifteen minutes after she did, and his look of approval was heartening. He brought over a package of cheese he’d been promised by the kitchen staff, and she set it inside the basket. When another five minutes passed without Sirius, though, Elodie started to look for reasons to criticize her setup. She ended up conjuring a few pillows, then transfiguring them a few times until they looked like something one would actually expect to see at a picnic. She’d just finished with a corduroy pillow roll when she heard a man’s voice she didn’t recognize. Elodie forced herself to stay on the blanket, knowing that Remus would want to greet his friend. She had no idea whether they’d seen each other in person (rather than Sirius as Padfoot) since the night Peter had escaped.

The men embraced; it was a long, jovial hug that warmed her just to watch it. Remus looked genuinely happy, his wide grin remaining on his face after the two stepped back from each other. Sirius was faced away from her, and she saw even from a distance that he was wearing clothes that did not fit properly. The jeans looked a bit too tight, and not long enough, and he was wearing a loose sweatshirt that almost hung off of his slight frame. He wasn’t as tall as Remus, as expected, and his hair was a wild mane of black, overlong and unkempt. His sleeves were rolled up, and to her surprise, she could see a tattoo on his arm as he gestured to Remus during their conversation.

She started chewing her fingernails, a habit she’d kicked except in very anxious times. It made her teeth ache, as her thumbnails were always so thick. Elodie clenched her fingers together in her lap and shut her eyes for a few seconds to admonish herself—after all, she hadn’t had the most auspicious first meeting with Remus, and that had worked out just fine. When she opened her eyes again, Sirius and Remus were walking toward her. 

Elodie scrambled to get up, but Sirius waved her back. 

“Please, don’t,” he said, smiling. Then, before Elodie could greet him further, he threw himself at the corner of the blanket where she’d collected all of the pillows. She shared a look of amused alarm with Remus before Sirius spoke again. “I can’t even tell you the last time I was able to relax in the presence of friends-- _ any _ humans, really,” he said with a tiny catch in his voice. “Gods. Remus, this is probably the best present you’ve ever given me!”

“The best in a decade, that’s certain,” Remus said, settling down at Elodie’s side of the blanket. “Bah! Aim those somewhere else!” 

Sirius had toed off his boots, and the cloth covering his feet would have been proud to be called socks. At Remus’s look of disgust, Sirius angled his gnarly feet away from them both, but the price Remus had to pay for that action was listening to a list of times he had foisted his own smelly feet on Sirius, beginning in their early years of Hogwarts. This was punctuated with explanations and objections from Lupin, leaving Elodie to simply sit and enjoy their display.

More importantly to her, though, was that she could observe Sirius. The first thing about him that she noticed (as she suspected everyone did) was his charisma. There was just something about the way he moved, the way he spoke, that commanded attention. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, which he still was; even under the effects of long-term starvation and neglect his grey eyes were beautiful as they sparkled with mirth in teasing Remus, and his facial features, though gaunt, were clearly aristocratic and good-looking. Elodie was reminded of the way Cleopatra was described, how her actual physical attractiveness wasn’t what drew everyone to her. Sirius seemed like a step above that, a handsome person who also possessed great magnetism. He didn’t come across as arrogant, though Elodie suspected he was more than capable of it.

“So, Elodie, it’s nice to meet you,” Sirius said after pushing Remus sideways with a shove of the same hand he offered in greeting to her. “I assume Remus has told you  _ everything _ about me?”

“Not really,” she said, shooting a sideways glance at Remus.

“Ah, so everything you know about me is from the newspapers, then? It’s a wonder you’re still sitting here!”

“Wrong again,” Elodie said. “Almost everything I know of you comes from history books, actually.”

At this, Sirius’s joking demeanor faltered, and he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.  _ “History _ books,” he repeated, dubiously.

“Unfortunately so, yes,” Elodie said. “And they’re all written by self-absorbed so-called historians who don’t know jack shit about what actually happened.” Elodie had tried to keep her voice modulated to the humor she’d started with, but remembering the various books she’d read in the past month and the way they’d all excoriated Sirius Black’s personality and supposed mis-deeds made her angry all over again. “I thought they were completely full of it when I read them the  _ first _ time, but since Remus told me more about what they got wrong, well...”

“When I first met her, she was in the process of setting one of those books on  _ fire _ ,” Remus broke in to say, reaching for a chunk of cheese from the lunch basket. 

“I’ve always said you had good taste in friends, Moony,” Sirius said, pointing to himself with an expression of approval. “Go on, love,” he said to Elodie.

His very relaxed, unconscious Sirius-ness made her blink for a few seconds before she remembered what she’d been saying. “Anyway, according to those books, you’re  _ worse _ than You Know Who. Because, you see,  _ you _ had a choice of whether or not to be evil.”

“That puts the Hogwarts sorting hat on notice, then,” Sirius muttered.

“So the take-away from all of this is, basically, I don’t know you at all.” After she’d said she didn’t know him, Sirius’s eyes kind of lit up in a way that was both attractive and dangerous-looking.

“Oh, here we go,” Remus said under his breath, noticing Sirius’s expression. Then, louder: “Sirius, remember: I actually  _ like _ her. She reads books with me. Please don’t go scaring her away, all right?”

“SCARE her?” Sirius Black, dangerous Azkaban fugitive and accused multiple murderer said, shocked. “My dear man. I’m affronted.” He pressed his hand to his chest in a mockery of a maiden aunt, and this reminded Elodie of something she’d meant to ask him.

“Speaking of scary things, I was wondering.” Elodie stopped speaking at ‘wondering,’ selfishly wanting see what the two men’s reaction would be. Remus had started assembling sandwiches from the supplies he and Elodie had collected from Hollyfield’s kitchen, and he shook his head and chuckled. Sirius’s response was to lift one of his feet and wave it in her direction.

Luckily for her (and unluckily for his usage of his feet as weapons of mass destruction), Elodie had been practicing repair spells the day before.

_ “Soccus Reparo!” _ she said confidently, aiming her wand in his general direction. His pathetic socks slid up and over his overlong toenails to form a neat, even seam. A small shockwave of healing fabric rolled from that seam all the way along the length of each foot and up past his ankles, leaving clean, new looking socks in its wake. 

“They’re even  _ warm!” _ Sirius exclaimed.

“Oh! I didn’t realize I could do that just by wishing,” Elodie said, surprised. She’d been thinking, as she cast, that she dearly wished the spell had a warming component. This was something she would definitely talk over with Horace, the next time she sent him an Owl. She pulled her small notebook out and made a note of it, but looked up mid-sentence when she realized neither Remus nor Sirius was speaking.

They were both looking at her with respect, in a way that made her feel profoundly uncomfortable. Then, in an icebreaking way only Remus could master, he held up a plate.

“Sandwich?”

“From you? Always,” Elodie said. “Right, the thing I was going to ask. Sirius, forgive me if this is too personal--”

“Not possible,” the man in question stated firmly. Elodie studiously ignored the interruption.

“--but, do inmates from Azkaban really have their numbers tattooed onto them? Azkaban is kind of a mythic place to Americans, and there’s all kinds of misinformation,” Elodie said, trying to focus on the question instead of the man. This was just about impossible, though, as she was starting to realize.

“Elodie! Are you saying you want to see my bare chest?!” Sirius asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Oh  _ please,” _ Elodie scoffed. Then, before she could remind herself that she’d really only known this man for a few minutes, she spoke instead out of the emotional attachment she’d felt for him for years. “Be honest: you’re only wearing a shirt that actually  _ covers _ your chest because you assumed I’d be scared of you otherwise!”

“Remus, can we keep her?” Sirius said in a stage whisper. Then, louder, “How in Merlin’s name can you possibly know that?!”

Elodie had read enough Sherlock Holmes to know how to answer him without worrying that her inside knowledge of his character was at risk of being revealed.

“It’s mostly just observation--clothing that’s magically altered has a certain… inaccuracy to it. You could have come here in what looked like Albus Dumbledore’s best dress robes, if you’d wanted to. But the only part of your clothes that look altered is the neckline of your shirt. It’s a button-down, except here.” Elodie leaned over and touched her fingertip to the place where the fabric showed a change, at the center of his chest. “Here it’s closed off, just fabric but no buttons, all the way up.” She traced her finger lightly up until she reached the neckline, right under his chin. “You’ve also pulled at the collar in irritation at least twice since you arrived.”

“I’m convinced,” Sirius said softly, his voice very close to her. She looked up at him in surprise, finding that he was looking at her with a direct, thoughtful expression. It was intimidating to be under his scrutiny, for those sexy grey eyes and all that intensity to be directed solely at her.

She took a chance that this was a Sirius Thing, and said, “Okay, cut that look out and eat your sandwich.” She sat up, pulling away from him to reach over and pick up her own.

“Hah!” Remus said, his voice overloud, and she looked over to see him looking extremely pleased. “Immune,” he said meaningfully to Sirius, looking smug.

“Resistant,” Sirius countered. “But, fair enough.”

“Not easily manipulated, more like,” Elodie huffed. “But since we’re now  _ all _ talking about food--” she paused and looked back and forth at each man in turn, raising her eyebrows at each until they nodded in intimidated agreement, “--I wanted to give this to you before I forget,” she finished, looking at Sirius. She pulled the canvas bag of oat rolls from the grass beside her and unzipped the top a fraction, so he could see inside.

Sirius looked intrigued. “These are--”

“Going to help keep you alive,” Elodie said sternly. “I don’t know what you’re eating, and where you’re living, and I’m sure that’s none of my business, but these rolls that I’ve made you don’t need refrigeration, and they’ve got a crust to help combat moisture if you’re in a cave or something. Remus mentioned his worry that you’re not eating well, and I’d say he probably has a good point.”

At this, Sirius frowned as if he wanted to argue, but then he took a look at her expression, and stayed silent. He did, however, cast a ‘ _ Finite _ ’ on the spell he’d used to alter his shirt. Elodie could see that it did look like he had a few tattoos on his chest, but he hid them by pulling the cardigan he was wearing over them and zipping it in a display of modesty that had Remus laughing out loud.

“Thank you, Elodie,” Sirius said eventually. He reached out for the bag, clearly expecting to be able to lift it easily, but when he got ahold of one handle and tugged, it slid a few inches toward him, full as it was with the oat rolls.

“There’s a jar of honey in there, too,” Elodie said sweetly. “Did I forget to mention?”

“A  _ cask _ , more like,” Sirius muttered. At this, Remus reached over thanks to his long arm and dug around in the opening until he retrieved the small glass jar.

“It’s full of food,” he told his friend. “No more ‘starved chic’ for you, I guess.”

Sirius hissed in response. “That’s low. I’ll have you know my cave has plenty of amenities.”

“A cave! See, Remus!” Elodie said, a bit distressed. She’d hoped there was a way that Dumbledore had given Sirius enough money from his Black inheritance that he could rent a room somewhere, at least. “We were hoping you were at least in an apartment or something.”

“Don’t fret, love. It’s the appearance that’s the deterrent, mostly,” Sirius told her, biting a chunk of oat roll and making a pleased sound around his mouthful. When he’d swallowed at least half of it, he spoke again, his voice muffled by the food still remaining. “Using magic to look presentable is tiring, especially when you’re hungry. Landlords are a choosy bunch, and I just haven’t bothered.”

“You should bother by eating better,” she told him seriously. “The long-term effects of starvation are well documented, even for badass pureblood wizards.”

“You  _ have _ told her about me!” Sirius crowed to Remus.

The rest of the afternoon went about the same way, with Sirius being completely irrepressible at trying to bait both Elodie and Remus into believing outrageous exaggerations of how he spent his time in the past month. Over the course of the two hours he spent in the meadow with them, Sirius already started to lose the coarseness he’d worn like a mantle when he’d shown up. It seemed like being in the company of people who clearly cared for his well being did vast amounts of good, and Elodie wondered if there was a way she could find him a place to live close by.

Despite absolutely loving every minute of the time she spent near Sirius, Elodie found herself yawning in the warm sun, once all the food had been tidied away. Remus and Sirius were talking about where You Know Who was hiding, and whether it would have been possible to follow Peter. Elodie had lain down sideways to watch their faces as they talked, and she was surprised and dismayed to find that she’d fallen asleep, after she was jostled awake by the men as they got up. In her sleep haze, she just blinked at the two of them, smiling drowsily at Sirius when he waved a goodbye.

Elodie took some deep breaths, trying to trick her brain into waking up more fully, but not moving from her curled up sideways position on the blanket. She heard Sirius and Remus talking from where they stood facing away from her a couple of feet away, and she strained to listen.

“--appreciate the two of you taking care of me, but don’t forget to take care of her, all right? She’s a treasure, completely unintimidated,” Sirius said. He let out another of the great, barking laughs that she’d been so delighted to hear earlier. Her hair had pulled free from the bun she’d fashioned at the nape of her neck in an attempt to look more grown up (something she never felt she really achieved), and enough of it had blown or drifted across her face that she could peek at the men undetected. She saw Remus turn in her direction after Sirius said such nice things, and she just  _ knew _ he didn’t think she was awake, because the way he looked at her made her blood burn. It was a look so full of honest affection that she could scarcely breathe.

It was the kind of look she tried to school off of her own face, when  _ she _ looked at  _ him. _

“She didn’t speak about it, but she’s been through a lot, too,” Remus said, turning back away from her. Elodie let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, but slowly, so agonizingly slowly. That look he’d given her was none of her business, and she wanted to keep it safe. That meant she would pretend to be asleep, as if sleeping would ever be possible with the way she felt like her heart was singing.

_ Just affection, Elodie. Don’t blow it out of proportion, now! _ she reprimanded herself.

“I got a letter from Harry. I’ll be honest, Moony--I want to show up and rip that place to shreds, but Albus swears it’s the only thing keeping Harry safe. As soon as he can get out of there this summer, no matter what--”

“Arthur and Molly have that covered, my friend,” Remus said, patting Sirius’s back. “Albus told me they’re planning to take him to the World Cup.”

Elodie had to sneeze.

She really, really hated her ‘superpowers,’ sometimes.

After the most dignified sneeze she could possibly muster without a  _ muffliato _ enchant on the sly, Elodie stretched, trying to look like a person who’d just woken up unexpectedly.

“There’s Sleeping Beauty!” Sirius said in a ridiculous voice she was certain he thought sounded flirty. She couldn’t  _ wait _ to give him shit about that another time. For now, though--

“Oh, my God. Not even close,” she groaned, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face every which way. “Ask Remus, I do NOT wake up in any state that could be construed as ‘beauty.’”

Elodie really, really didn’t think clearly when she was only just awake. Even seeing the flushed pink, shocked expression on Remus’s face as he spluttered an explanation about coming across a just-awoken Elodie on the staircase at Hollyfield wasn’t enough to clue her in to what she’d implied. It was the deadpan, right at the correct beat of time comment by Sirius that did it.  
“Remus, you  _ dog.” _


	9. Joy Baked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Sirius Black manage to give Harry Potter a 'superb' birthday cake in _Goblet of Fire?_ Well, dear reader, Elodie baked it for him.

>  
> 
> Dear Elodie,
> 
> Thank you again for the rolls. They’re delicious, and I’m very grateful for them except for how they remind me of what it was like to be a useful, non-fugitive person, and that makes it harder to BE a useless fugitive. 
> 
> \--I’ve only just met you, and I know what face you made when you read that. I think it’s Remus’s influence, because he’d be making the very same face.--
> 
> I wanted to ask you how Remus is really doing, since as you probably know, I can’t ask him, because he wouldn’t tell me. He’d  _ think _ he was telling me, but we both know he’d fudge the truth. So: how is Remus doing, really?
> 
> Also, he mentioned you having a tough few months, and here, I shamelessly say I’m curious about that (this is also how you know I’m already your friend, because a stranger would be horrified to ask this!), but I’ll understand if you’re not willing to tell me yet. I’ll make a pouty face, but I’ll understand.
> 
> I cast your repair spell but I am not as good at wishing for warm socks as you are. So instead, I have cold feet and boring, un-holy socks, which sounds more fun than they actually are. 
> 
> My actual purpose in writing was to ask you if you’d be willing to help me with something for my godson. He wrote to me that he’s not being fed well, and it’s his birthday in less than a week. I’d love to send him a cake, but my cave comes surprisingly sparse with the kind of tools one would use to bake with.
> 
> Perhaps it’s time to look into living in actual human housing again.
> 
> \--Your face lit up. Yes, you can tell Remus what I said about houses.--
> 
> Please Owl back within a few days about whether you’ll help, or I will have to go looking for cakes to steal.
> 
> Your new friend,
> 
> Sirius Black

 

Elodie had no way to know when Sirius had sent his letter, as he hadn’t dated it. She  _ did _ know when Harry Potter’s birthday was, and so did every history book she’d read about him, so she knew she had just over four days to help Sirius Black with a cake for his godson. She made a note to ask Sirius what his bird liked for treats, as it wasn’t an owl, but a really brightly colored exotic bird that she hadn’t expected to have a letter for her.

All of a sudden, she gasped. That exact bird was what had given Harry the impression that Sirius was somewhere safe in the tropics! Sirius had stayed in the UK that whole time and simply used an exotic courier service or something, all to give his godson the peace of mind that he was somewhere far out of reach of the Ministry, the Dementors, and the Death Eaters.

“You’re one clever devil,” she told Sirius’s signature.

_ That _ was something else, too.  _ She recognized his signature. _ She’d seen it in one of the books, and there it was, written in a letter addressed to  _ her. _ Elodie took the parchment roll and held it to her chest for a minute. She didn’t have anything of Remus’s, though her memories were strong enough, she supposed. This, though. Could she keep this, somehow, even if she ended up going back to her own… dimension? And exactly how ridiculous would that be, if she did? In 2009 you could probably order prints from someone who could approximate his handwriting and would write whatever you paid them to, but  _ this _ was the real thing.

Feeling incredibly ridiculous, Elodie unrolled the parchment and then folded it, Muggle-style, into a square. Then she tucked it into her change purse for a second before taking it back out and putting it into her pocket.

_ At least I didn’t put it into my bra, _ she told herself. The problem was, she wasn’t so certain she wouldn’t, someday. If she had a letter from Remus, she had no doubt that she would absolutely do just that.

 

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“It’s going to be Harry Potter’s birthday,” Elodie said to Remus, in the manner of a greeting, as she breezed over to sit beside him in the courtyard.

“Yes it is,” he agreed. “And hello.”

“I got a letter from Sirius about it,” she whispered. She just happened to be looking at Remus when she said this, and she watched his face fall. “Oh  _ no! _ He didn’t stop sending  _ you _ letters, did he? I promise, I didn’t ask him to write, he just--”

“Of course he wrote you. You’re a--”

Elodie raised an eyebrow and said, “A  _ what?” _ When he opened his mouth to answer, she raised both. He frowned and tried again.

“It was going to be complimentary, and now you’ll never know what it was,” he told her, a bit petulantly, she thought.

“This is just ‘eyebrow’ for ‘go on,’” Elodie protested, pointing at her face.

Remus raised his own eyebrow, and she collapsed in laughter.

“See, that was just adorable, which I’m not afraid to say, and fie to your eyebrow!” she said defiantly.

“Yeah, just wait till you’ve got a handful of letters and see if you still say that,” Remus muttered.

Elodie stopped laughing and looked at him in astonishment. “Are you--”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking, how can you say--”

“No.”

“I  _ wasn’t _ going to say ‘jealous,’ Remus Lupin,” she hissed at him. “I was going to say ‘accusing me of--’”

Remus put down the book he’d tried to hold up in between each denial, looked straight into her eyes as she was talking, and interrupted with, “No.”

“See, now you’re just saying ‘no’ because it makes you look cool to say it three times in a row,” she said, crossing her arms. His stern demeanor cracked with a tiny little smile that tugged at his upper lip.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I will say: Sirius is irrepressible. He’s convinced he’s irresistible, which is fair warning from me, and hopefully all I ever, ever say about that.”

“I--” Elodie didn’t know what to say. “I’m speechless. Does it count if I can  _ say _ I’m speechless?” He didn’t look back over at her. She sat in silence and thought, without picking up her book, for many long minutes. Finally, she lit on something. “I’m really happy for you, actually,” she said.

Remus looked over at her in utter confusion.  _ “What?” _

“You’ve clearly reframed him in your mind back to being the person you knew,” she said, quietly enough that she didn’t have to worry if she slipped in a detail that would endanger Sirius. “Do you not realize what you did, just now? You  _ warned me off _ of a man who is a fugitive from justice as a mass murderer. Except you didn’t. Because you know who and what he is, again. You did it instinctively. And that makes me really, really happy for you.”

Elodie picked her book up and pretended to read it as he stared at her. He stared some more, until he finally shook his head, which she saw out of the corner of her eye. She dropped the pretence and lowered her book to look over.

“Only you could take that whole conversation, flip it upside down, and leave me feeling profoundly touched by the end of it,” he said simply. He sighed a long, troubled sigh, as though he were shaking off the yoke of something he’d long wished he could be rid of.  _ “Thank you.” _

“Anyway, if you’re jealous,” she just  _ had  _ to throw in there, as impish as she felt.

“Elodie,” Remus said, in a warning tone.

“--you could always write me a letter, too! And now I’ll run away!” she said, standing up and starting to powerwalk toward the house.

“Don’t run away, I’m disgruntled, not angry,” he said, catching her flowy shirt and then her hand with his wolf reflexes to stop her as she scooted past him. “You shouldn’t go pushing people’s buttons just because you can.”

Elodie’s giddiness from teasing evaporated away, leaving a film of self-disgust behind. She flopped into a metal chair next to Remus’s reading spot, completely deflated.

“I wouldn’t have pushed it if I’d thought it was a thing, truly,” she said, shocked that Remus would even admit to something as private as being jealous of Sirius. If that was really what he was implying.

“For context,” Remus said slowly, “Sirius used to act like he had the ability to attract anyone in our sphere of influence. That was back when we were in school, and just done with our NEWTs, and there were many girls around to float into and out of our sphere of influence. I’m not sure he even realized he was doing it, by James and Lily’s wedding.”

“Oh my  _ God, _ I don’t even want to  _ picture _ him peacocking at their wedding,” Elodie blurted out. 

Remus shut his eyes and shook his head, laughing. “I honestly  _ can _ still picture it.”

“Okay, so what you’re saying is, our sphere of influence right now consists of you, me,  _ Albus, _ Sirius, and possibly his godson.” Elodie kept her voice as quiet as she could, just in case.

“Yes.”

“And far be it from any of us that aren’t Sirius to tell him not to be himself after so many years of horror,” she continued.

“Yes.”

“So I should be ordering a salt lick to ensure I’m taking everything he says to me with at least a grain of?”

“Yes.” The last ‘yes’ was said with no small amount of relief in Remus’s voice.

“Did you like how I made sure to pause and frame things so you could look really cool again?” Elodie said, making a show of winking obnoxiously at him.

He paused judiciously, smiled, and then spoke. 

“No.”

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Somehow, Remus talked Albus into letting the three of them go to Hogwarts and use a kitchen there to bake Harry Potter a cake. Apparently, being Albus Dumbledore and knowing your way around Hogwarts meant he knew where there were hidden  _ kitchens _ . When Remus told her, Elodie wondered if the older wizard would activate one in the Room of Requirement. No matter where they were baking, though, they would get to the school via the Headmaster’s Office Floo.

So naturally, Elodie had a massive fucking panic attack the night before.

Remus found her pacing outside Hollyfield, just out the door from the potions lab, ostensibly watching the sunset.

_ “There  _ you are! I figured I’d find you freaking out, but I couldn’t decide where exactly you’d be,” he teased, once he found her.

“I need to transfer some of the potion to the first cauldron in three days. What if something happens to me in transit? I could end up in, in, I don’t know.  _ Bulgaria! _ ”

“I don’t think you could say ‘Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office’ and somehow turn that into anything that resembles ‘Bulgaria,’ but I guess that depends on how many syllables you plan to milk out of one single place name,” Remus said, leaning against the wall just outside the door.

“I’ve got a list of--”

“Of  _ course _ you have,” he interrupted her fondly.

“Of the things that need to be done, in order, for the Wolfsbane, to give to Horace if something happens,” Elodie said, more loudly, as though he hadn’t spoken at all.

“I could conjure up a fireplace for you to practice in?”

“Living as a Muggle was really,  _ really _ realistic, okay?” she said anxiously. “The big stuff, the really mystical magic stuff, the things that are obviously magic and can’t be anything else--they’re really intimidating. Like when I could see the gold in your eyes, the night of the full moon.”

“You what?” Remus straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I didn’t think you remembered,” she said. It came out more sadly than she had intended, so she rushed ahead with anything else she could think of to say. As usual, she chose poorly. “You were busy being upset with me about something, anyway.”

“I owe you a discussion about that, you know,” he said, looking cross. “Maybe not while you’re this stressed out about something else, though. Don’t you remember ever using the Floo before?”

“No,” she admitted in a small voice. “I know I’m being silly.”

“Not silly,” he said. Then, with a look of determination, he held out a hand. “All right, I can fix your distress for you right now. Come here, please.”

Elodie dithered, and he shook his outstretched hand in a way that all children recognize from a parent’s insistence. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, taking his hand. He pulled her over to stand in front of him, then took his own deep breath.

Then, Remus angled an arm around her, and whispered in her ear.

“I actually do remember, vaguely, you whispering in my ear just like this.” Elodie shut her eyes and shivered, popping them back open in shock when Remus then said, louder, “Ready?”

Then, he Apparated them both into Hollyfield, right into his own bedroom.

It felt like her entire body had been crammed into a single molecule and then allowed to expand back into its normal size with no care or sense as to how traumatic it might feel. The sound was fantastically loud, and she stumbled, when they landed, right back into Remus’s waiting arms.

Before she could even catch her breath, he said, “I wanted to take you to your room, but I didn’t know if I could picture it properly. Are you all right?” He let go of her and sort of hovered, his arms stretched to either side of her as though trying to gauge whether she would topple over again.

“I. Am. NEVER--” Elodie started to say when a great sense of being suddenly sick took over, and she covered her mouth.

“--trying that again?” he prompted, looking a little chagrined. She shook her head, angry, but knew that with how wobbly she looked, it could look like she was preparing to retch. “--letting me anywhere near you?” was Remus’s next suggestion, which Elodie waved off, one hand still cupped over her mouth. “--trusting me again?” he offered, his eyebrows at such angles of worry that she nearly laughed.

“Baking for you. Ever. You’ve lost me,” she gasped out. 

“Oh, if that’s all!” Remus said, clearly relieved.

_ That _ was the last straw. She came at him, arms flailing. “You! You scared the living SHIT out of me with that! Why on  _ Earth _ would you think that would  _ help!” _

“It did, though, you’ll see. You won’t be nearly as frightened, once you’ve forgiven me,” he said, dodging her blows with his ridiculous reflexes. 

“Ugh! You and your nonsensically fast--HA.” She landed one, right at his shoulder. “I don’t even care that you let me hit you that time. You’ve turned me into a violent bitch, see if I ever recover,” she fumed.

“It will be--” he started to say, then stopped.

“Nope, out with it,” she demanded. When he shook his head, she widened her eyes in her very best imitation of her mom’s scary ‘Do It Now’ expression.

“--worth it,” he said in a very small voice.

“Cut to the quick,” Elodie said dramatically, staggering backwards while holding her hand to her chest. Then she straightened, dusted her hands together, and told him, “You don’t know what you just lost, buster. Just for that, I’m going to look up the most well-respected, most famous, most celebrated chocolate biscuit recipe there is. I’ll make some, and then  _ I won’t share. _ ”

She stood there, actually  _ pointing _ at him, until both of them realized the sheer ridiculousness of both of their behaviors.

“Your  _ face _ , though!” Elodie gasped out through the laughter.

“You called me  _ buster,” _ Remus said, shaking his head as he laughed along with her. “But at least now you know what your alternative is, tomorrow.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Elodie was proud of just how dripping her sarcasm sounded, there. 

8888888888888888

Taking the Floo wasn’t anywhere near as traumatic an experience as Side-Along Apparition.

It helped that it was literally a dream come true for Elodie to be going to Hogwarts. When she said the words ‘Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office,’ she’d had to fight the powerful pricks of emotional weight pushing tears into her eyes. She managed it, and fancied that she only looked overcome by the experience of traveling. That lasted for about as long as it took for her to open her eyes and really look at her surroundings.

Unlike most rooms with a fireplace, this one was not oriented around the hearth. The fireplace itself was larger than normal, but it was in proportion to the room. A high, vaulted ceiling hung over them, with columns and internal buttresses of marble and carved, rich wood arched around them in curves and angles. Elodie felt like the effect was as if the room was reaching around to comfort her, easing her into the grandness that was the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Sconces and other light sources, magic and practical, hung and jutted out all over the place, leaving interesting shadows and pools of light everywhere. The portraits of previous headmasters hung along a wall that was also decorated with light and fabric, though nearly all of them were sleeping. Elodie felt like she was looking at a picture of a room that had been enhanced in a computer’s image editor, with multiple hidden layers and graphic effects that weren’t all possible to pick out with the naked eye. She supposed that the reality of this room wasn’t far off from that, as there were undoubtedly wards and magical enchantments cast all across and around the walls and spaces between.

A tapping noise that Elodie instantly recognized as a bird’s beak--and wasn’t  _ that _ a fascinating development, to recognize a noise so wholly not magical, but to recognize it  _ because _ of the presence of magic in her life--caused her to look over to see Albus’s majestic desk and Fawkes the Phoenix’s open cage sitting elegantly atop it.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Albus, but your phoenix is still the most impressive part of this room,” Remus said. His voice sounded relaxed and almost joyful, and Elodie looked over to see the two men shaking hands. Albus reached over with his free hand to clap Remus’s other shoulder in obvious affection.

“Elodie, welcome!” the older wizard said next. She walked over and reached an arm out, but was engulfed in a huge hug full of tassels, beard hair, and the soft smell of lemon. “I haven’t been able to fully express my regret at the loss of your mother. I was so very pleased to get to meet her, even in such a state. She was delightful. You have my abject sympathy.”

“Your sentiments feel all the more valuable because I know how sincere they are,” she told him. “I can honestly think of no one else I could have asked to be with her other than myself, and my late father.”

A thump noise caught both Elodie and Dumbledore’s attention, and when they turned toward the noise, they caught Remus rubbing at his shoulder. He looked apologetic.

“That sack isn’t actually heavy, but the strap ends up digging in. Sorry Elodie,” he said to her as he picked up the bag he’d dropped.

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s probably the jars, do you want me to carry it?” she asked without thinking.

Remus raised an eyebrow, something she was starting to find was a trigger of attraction for her--his looking slightly cross, that was--and cast a quick levitation spell.

“You could have done that off the shoulder, too, so don’t go looking too clever,” she pointed out.

“Hmm,” Albus said with a calculating look at the two of them. “Off to the kitchens, I think.”

He led them toward the winding stone staircase that led out of his office. Elodie couldn’t resist running her fingertips along the curved marble, wondering whose fingerprints had also slid across there. Neville Longbottom? Fred or George Weasley? Lily Evans?

After the gryffin that guarded the office slid back into place, Albus walked with purpose down a hallway that opened up into a larger space. An immense staircase lay in front of them, each alcove and turn of the steps decorated with a portrait. She rushed to keep up with Albus and Remus, as they had moved with the ease and confidence of men who knew exactly where they were. It was a good thing she’d rushed, too, because after she’d stepped down no more than two of the stairs, the was a loud resonant boom, and the solid staircase under her feet seemed to slide toward the middle of the room, and then glide sideways.

Elodie rested a tentative hand on the thick marble bannister and started down, her eyes captivated by the symphony of moving parts as the entire staircase adjusted seamlessly around her. She wasn’t really watching where she was going, but she wasn’t worried, given that the shape of the bannister under her fingers would undoubtedly change when the steps widened out to a landing. It seemed like this hadn’t occurred to Remus, though, because he reached out and caught her hand when she passed where he’d stopped to wait.

Her momentum and sheer captivation was such that she didn’t even register that he’d clasped her hand in his until she reached the landing and the connection tugged at her.

Elodie looked up at Remus and smiled with as much joy as she’d ever felt in her entire life. Remus almost looked like he’d been knocked sideways with the force of her emotion; he met her gaze as a person taken aback, then he tipped his head sideways, narrowed his eyes as if studying her, and then walked down the steps toward her.

“What is it?” he whispered, as if afraid to burst her bubble of happiness.

“It’s Hogwarts’ moving staircase!” she whispered back.

Remus shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together, bemused. “Yes, yes it is,” he said.

“No, I mean... Remus--” Elodie turned in his direction and reached down to pick up his free hand in hers, the levitated bag of supplies still hovering a pace or so behind him. 

She opened her mouth to try to explain just how completely  _ amazing _ everything was,  _ everything _ , down to the way the carpet snugged itself against the newly made connection beside them as the staircase settled. The danger of being too truthful just seemed lessened here, and she decided that she could explain herself as closely as possible to being honest that it would make sense, and not feel like deceit.

“I wanted to tell you: I think, before I went to sleep the night before I woke up years of memories older, I must have been reading  _ Hogwarts, A History, _ because--” she looked around them, craning her head back so far Remus tightened his grip on their joined hands as though he were afraid she’d continue her tilt until she fell backwards. “All of this, it was… how do I explain? Like a book, it was fiction in those Muggle memories.” She drew on everything she knew about this universe and hers to try to paint as close a picture as she would ever let herself reveal to Remus of what had really happened. “So there was a Hogwarts, in that world, an imaginary one. And I loved it, Remus, I  _ loved _ it, but it wasn’t real. Everything that’s real about this place, it was part of a story set here. You could see how easy that would be to picture, don’t you?”

He nodded, still bemused, his hazel eyes lit up with intelligence and imagination. “I can, actually. It’s pretty fantastical, even for a magical place,” he said.

“Right? But  _ here I am _ !” As she said this, she let go of his hands, stepped back a step, and spun, throwing her arms out in an expression of delight. “I can’t get over it!”

“You’ll ‘get over’ the side of the stairwell if you’re not--  _ Elodie!” _ Remus said, and suddenly he reached out and grabbed her, not quite completely picking her up, but sliding her toward him, to safety. The staircase was moving again.

“I think even First Years are more aware,” he said, looking down at her. She had her forearms pressed to his chest, and his hands were linked behind her, at the small of her back.

She didn’t think there was any more happy she could ever get.

“It’s  _ real,” _ she whispered to Remus, undaunted. She could feel his heartbeat under her hand and tried to pretend it was beating faster, maybe, because of her. Remus didn’t pull away like she thought he would. He just looked down at her, his breathing a bit more heavy because of having to grab her, most likely. 

“So are you, somehow,” he marveled. 

Something about the way he said it snapped him out of whatever spell of wonder she’d woven around them, though, and he moved his hands from holding her close into a stance of steadying her, instead. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Elodie said, turning away from him in an exaggerated act of relief to hover a hand under the levitating supplies. “We didn’t lose this, though I think we lost Albus.”

_ “You _ lost Albus, I think you mean,” Remus said to her, pointing across the staircase to a landing unconnected to a set of stairs. 

“Just because you’ve lost the wonder of a First Year doesn’t mean you have to judge,” Elodie sniffed. “I’m literally living in a story book.”

“Ah, but does that make you the heroine?” he asked, reaching out instinctively to steady her again as their staircase moved sideways, this time toward where Dumbledore stood waiting.

“Are you ready to joke about fairy tale implications, Mr. Big Bad Wolf?” she said in a voice too soft for anyone but him to hear. “It’s fine, if you’re not,” she felt compelled to say. Maybe someday Tonks would push, but how much of his later desperation came as a result of that? Here,  _ now _ , Elodie wasn’t prepared to do that to him. “I would never try to make you say or do anything you didn’t want to, you know,” she added, smiling gently.

Remus looked slightly horrified and slightly relieved, all at once. “Elodie,” he said, reluctance writ large on his face. It sounded like a warning.

“Except baking. You are contractually  _ required _ to help me with this cake, so no backing out, you got it?” she said, knowing that he would rise to the genre change with gratitude unspoken.

Without looking back, she grabbed one of the handles of their levitating supplies bag and rushed off of the grand staircase, prepared to follow Albus and let Remus deal with his own issues in peace. He’d follow her, or he wouldn’t. He’d either acknowledge whatever tension that was growing between them, or he wouldn’t. Elodie was prepared to be grateful either way.

8888888888888888

 

Elodie was happy to see that the kitchen Albus led them to was nowhere near as grand as the more famous of Hogwarts’ rooms. It was actually a disused staff kitchen, used back when more of the professors had been married with families who lived on site. Albus and Remus both cast spells to refresh and cleanse the various appliances and bowls that she would use to bake Harry Potter’s cake. Elodie was glad that Remus had agreed to come with her, because for all her confidence in her own abilities, most of those abilities had come from doing things the Muggle way. She could certainly figure out how to use magic to power things like the oven or use spells and charms to measure ingredients, but when it came to how much magical energy a mixer could take before burning its motor out? She had no idea.

“Thank you, Albus,” Elodie said, when the wizards were finished prepping the kitchen. She turned to thank Remus, but he had stepped up to talk to Dumbledore, and so Elodie took a large bowl, the magical mixer, and conjured up a mixture around the same consistency as that she’d need to be mixing for the actual cake.

“Elodie? You haven’t even opened the supplies,” Remus said when he came back over to her some minutes later. 

“That’s okay,” she said, concentrating on her wand and the increments of speed she was figuring out. 

“But where did the ingredients come from for what you’re making now?” he asked her, sounding baffled.

Elodie looked down at the black, gloppy mixture she’d conjured. “Oh! Yes, I can see how that would be confusing,” she said. “I haven’t baked the magic way in, let’s say, at least 15 years, it feels like,” she told him. “So I don’t have a sense memory on speed for this thing.” Elodie held up the mixer, the deep black batter dripping from its beaters. “So I conjured up something that’s about as thick as I’ll be making, so I could try it out, first. It’s black because I wanted to make sure I cleaned it all off before we start, so I made it extra noticeable for if I miss any.”

“That’s really clever,” he said, taking the jars of ingredients out of the supplies bag. “You have a really intuitive way of looking at magic, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too complimentary--it took me five minutes to realize I could spell the mixing bowl to hold it steady, instead of trying balance everything. I am honestly surprised I didn’t try to conjure myself a third arm, first!”

Remus laughed with her, and they had a nice talk about all manner of things while Elodie prepared the cake, then mixed up her own icing and decorations. When they were done, she had made a chocolate two tiered cake, covered in green buttercream icing, a chocolate ‘collar’ around one side that looked a little bit like a spectators’ stand, and chocolate icing Quidditch goalposts on one side.

“Would you spell it safe for travel please, Remus?” she asked him, and Remus nodded and did so. “I just realized--I have no idea how to contact someone in so large a building!”

“Well, if you’re looking for Albus, he told me we were fine to walk back to his office without him,” Remus said. “As for messages--that was often what we used students for.”

“Fair enough,” she said, thinking of how enthusiastic someone like Colin Creevey would be at such a prospect.

Remus was kind enough to offer to hold the cake for her when it came time to Floo back. They planned to meet Sirius the next day to hand it over, and Elodie had a surprise for the two wizards when it came time for the hand over. Once she was safe in her own room again, with the spelled imperturbable cake glowing faintly on her rolltop desk, she pulled a hidden imperturbable package out of the supplies bag.

Inside were two chocolate cupcakes, each with a fondant decoration on the top. One was a Bludger, the black fondant shaped to look mostly smooth except for a few slight indents, as though the cupcake top had been taken from a real Bludger that had been used for over a hundred years. That cupcake was for Sirius. The other cupcake had a red, leather looking appearance, with one flatter segment, like a Quaffle. She’d had to rush the decoration for this one, as the fondant she’d used for the Bludger at least could conceivably look like un-dyed fondant for the Golden Snitch she’d made for Harry’s cake, if Remus had suspected anything. Still, she was pleased with Remus’s cupcake. She supposed that, given her promise never to bake him anything, she might have to keep it to herself.


	10. Delight and Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always feel like there should be more random magical creature encounters, so here's one with a massive cliché that happens to be one of my favorites. Also, Sirius is sick of sleeping in caves.

 

Remus and Elodie arrived at the meadow meet up after Sirius did, this time around. When they arrived, talking animatedly about a book about transfiguration Remus had lent Elodie, Sirius was reclining on a strange ledge of logs. Something inside her told Elodie that he’d tried something, failed, and didn’t want to Apparate his way out of it, so he’d waited for Remus. Because she was in a generous mood, Elodie waved at Sirius, walked past him a good ten yards, and then laid out her blue plaid blanket like before, studiously avoiding looking behind her at whatever predicament Sirius had really gotten himself into.

When Remus finally walked over to her set up, he leaned over and said to her, “How did you know?”

Elodie opened her eyes wide, going for maximum innocence. “Whatever do you mean?” Then she laughed. “Sirius looked… awkwardly perched. My guess is he tried to build something, it failed semi-catastrophically, and he was in possession of far too much pride to Apparate himself out of the thing. How’d I do?”

“Correct in one,” Remus told her. “But I’ll leave his dignity intact if you promise to, as well.”

“Of course.”

“What’s the muttering? Did you lose Harry’s cake?” Sirius said, anxiously hovering over Remus as the werewolf unpacked the bag they’d levitated with them.

“It’s here--I wanted to ask you how you planned to decorate it?” Elodie said, looking up at Sirius with a blank face. Remus was suddenly afflicted with a coughing fit.

“You didn’t-- I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but… ?”

“It’s decorated, Sirius, don’t worry.” Elodie pulled the cake out from the bag in its stasis glow, along with a package that was still wrapped in brown paper. “I honestly don’t know what made me tease you like that. I actually made you this to put on Harry’s cake, to say that you did have a hand in decorating it.” She pulled out the fondant Snitch and lifted the stasis spell on both it and the cake, so that Sirius could place the final decoration on it.

“Oh, that looks fantastic,” Sirius said. “But this Snitch isn’t going to stay, is it?” He asked that before he lifted it from Elodie’s hand, so she pushed her hand closer to him so he could look at it in better detail.

“Nope, it’s edible,” Remus said. Elodie opened her mouth to comment on Harry’s catching his first snitch  _ in his mouth _ , first year, but stopped herself.

Sirius set the fondant Snitch down in its place on the cake, then he cast a stasis spell and put the finished cake in his own rucksack. “Thank you again,” he said, looking a mixture of excited and overcome. “Harry is gonna love it.”

“I am glad! This is for you, by the way,” Elodie said, handing him his Bludger cupcake. “Also edible.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , yes,” Sirius said, biting into his cupcake. He colored when she looked at askance at him. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve had something like this. I really, really love cake.”

The simplicity of his answer cracked Elodie up. “I honestly can’t argue with that,” she said. “I’m tempted to give you Remus’s cupcake, since he is on my bad side right now.” She held up the Quaffle cupcake.

“Oh he’s definitely a prat. Give it to me?” Sirius said, smiling broadly. He  _ knew _ he was hot, she could tell by the way he waited for her to have a typical ‘girl swoons for handsome wizard’ sort of response.

“Surely you didn’t really mean you’d never  _ ever _ bake for me?” Remus said with a smidgeon of longing in his voice. She looked over at him to see him admiring the cupcake she’d made for him.

“Surely you didn’t really think I’d be fine with your Apparating me without warning or permission?”

“Moony, you didn’t!”

“Oh, don’t act shocked, Sirius, you just want more cupcake. Elodie, if you can honestly tell me that you were every bit as scared of using the Floo  _ after _ my Side-Along as you were beforehand, feel free to give that cupcake to someone else,” Remus told her.

“You could at least  _ act _ contrite,” Elodie said, reluctant. 

“Please may I have my cupcake?”

“Yes, but don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of apology,” she said, handing it over. 

“Might as well have said ‘yes, Mum,’ Sirius said to Remus as an aside, sucking icing off of one finger. “That reminds me, though. I have a complaint.”

“A complaint,” Remus echoed, looking quizzical.

“Yes. You two have made me hate living in a cave, damn it!”

Elodie tried not to laugh, but Sirius looked so disgruntled that she couldn’t help herself. She snuck a look at Remus, and could tell that he was trying to find something helpful to say but failing; he kept opening his mouth to speak, but closing it without saying anything.

“Go on, laugh, but Elodie’s rolls looked so stupid and out of place on the cave floor that I actually went and cut down a tree with magic and tried to make a decent looking shelf to put them on,” Sirius complained.

“Do you know what else looks really stupid on the cave floor?” Elodie asked Sirius, raising her eyebrows at him.

Remus actually braved her anger by making a subtle ‘danger, don’t answer that’ kind of hand gesture, but Sirius said, “What?”

“Your  _ ass _ ,” Elodie said bluntly. “It’s past time for you to live like an actual human being, Sirius!” 

At this, Remus lost all structural integrity and simply covered his face, leaned over, and laughed and laughed. Instead of being upset at her as she thought he would be, though, Sirius just pointed at her and said, “That’s the thing! I think you’re right. So I sent Albus an Owl, and he said he’d make some of my Gringotts account available.” 

As he had last time, Sirius had been half sitting, half reclining on the blanket, but now, clearly excited, he sat up and then knelt, holding his arms out in an expansive gesture to include Elodie and Remus.

“I think we should rent a house!”

“We?” Remus said, surprised. Elodie didn’t say anything. She was too busy almost chewing off her fingers in excitement. This was a complete and utter surprise.

“I was thinking, Elodie’s could be the actual name on the lease, and it would be up you, Remus, whether you want to have your name on there, but then we could be connected to the Floo network,” Sirius said, not quite sitting back on his feet as he bounced his upper body along with his words. “I could Floo Harry--”

“That is  _ far _ too dangerous! The Floo in Gryffindor Tower isn’t secure in any--” Remus interrupted, but Sirius interrupted him right back.

“Maybe Albus will call him up to his office and I can Floo him there,” he said, waving his hand to dismiss Remus’s concerns as though they weren’t anything to worry about for a fugitive from the law. “No one would ever look for me living with someone else, though, would they! Especially not  _ two _ someones.”

“I don’t even know if I’m legal to rent in this country,” Elodie said, worried.

“You’re renting a room, aren’t you?” Remus pointed out.

“Not the same as real estate, but okay.” She didn’t want to argue against making this work, somehow.

“If we can do this, it would mean I could have a place, a real  _ home _ , for Harry, when my name is cleared. With parental figures, even. That has to count for something, don’t you think, Remus?”

The idea that Sirius might think she was even slightly responsible enough to be a ‘parental figure’ for his godson made Elodie tear up. The following thought, that somehow they could figure out a way to clear Sirius’s name and get Harry out of the hell hole that was his home with the Dursleys made her cry for real, though she tried to hide it. Remus and Sirius were in a somewhat heated discussion, so hiding her own heightened emotions wasn’t as hard as it might normally have been.

“--ry’s supposed to be safe there for a reason, Sirius, and I find it difficult to believe that someone of Albus’s stature wouldn’t have fought to keep him there if it wasn’t for a very good reason,” Remus was saying.

“He’s  _ my _ responsibility! And a house full of two wizards and a witch has got to be stronger magic protection than a bunch of idiot Muggles!”

Elodie moved to grab the small notebook she kept shrunk in her change purse. She charmed it back to its regular size and grabbed the self-inking quill Remus had gotten for her a while back.

To Do:

  * Review room rental agreements for terms and conditions of breaking 
  * Discover whether Elodie is legally permitted to rent property in the UK
  * Magical real estate agents???



Elodie looked up to see that once again, two wizards were staring at her.

“A ‘to do’ list, see, Remus--what lovely maternal, responsible behavior to have as an example!”

“You don’t need to lay it on quite so thick, I’m pretty sure she’s on board with your plan,” Remus told Sirius. He then leaned in her direction just slightly, asking via facial expression whether he was allowed to look at what she’d written. Her handwriting wasn’t the very end of the world, so she nodded and angled the parchment so he could read it. Sirius, of course, scooted close and almost edged Remus out of the way in his own attempts at being nosy.

“Well, I can answer your third point,” Sirius said after looking at her list.

“Oh?”

“I have my eye on a place. It’s a bit small, but it’s in the middle of basically nowhere, with fields around, no neighbors. We could use pretty strong wards, as I have nosed around there myself a bit and hadn’t seen a soul, magic or Muggle. The building is even in decent shape.”

“Muggle landlord?” Remus asked.

“Can’t tell, but I kind of assume so. It looks like it was built for one or two farmers to tend the nearby fields, but they’ve been consolidated into a larger commercial farm, so there’s no need,” Sirius said.

“That does sound perfect,” Remus allowed. At this, both Elodie and Sirius looked over at him with varying degrees of hope in their eyes. “What? I’m the practical one, not the downer,” he said, sounding a little miffed. 

“So, can we do this?” Sirius asked, his knee bouncing with unused energy as he sprawled back into his customary corner of the blanket.

“There a lot of steps to cover before we actually--” Remus started to say, then stopped as Sirius let his legs go limp in a clear display of utter disappointment. “You are so dramatic,” Remus scolded him. “Elodie?”

“I’d be delighted. Potions lab in the basement, though. Or we can build a shed for it,” she said, trying to sound firm and mature instead of completely over the moon excited at the prospect.

“And have Albus come over to make sure we make a safe place for the wolf,” Remus added.

“When you two are done being boring adults about all of this--” Sirius broke in, snagging Remus’s empty cupcake liner and picking off crumbs from it. “--I’d like to add that I want a place to fix my motorcycle.”

“You are seriously every single bad boy cliche ever written!” Elodie said, then giggled hysterically. He probably was  _ written _ to be.

Sirius flopped over onto his back and held up his hand to start counting. “Disowned, disinherited, falsely accused, escaped fugitive,”

“Leather, scruffy hair, motorcycle,” Elodie contributed.

“Don’t forget the naked Muggle posters in your bedroom,” Remus said mildly, clearing away the rest of the cupcake crumbs and the other liner.

“Ooh, hell yes. Forgot about those,” Sirius said approvingly.

“The what?” Elodie had to ask, even though she vaguely remembered something along those lines.

“The woman who birthed me is a pureblood supremacist,” Sirius said. “So naturally I loved the hell out of anything Muggle, just to let her know how much I cared.”

“So add ‘defiant as heck’ to the list?” Elodie said.

“He probably earned that one at one years old, let’s be honest,” Remus said. They all laughed. “So, Sirius, before I forget, I want to speak to you about something in private?”

As curious as she was about the oblique way Remus was talking, Elodie knew there were plenty of secrets the two men shared. “I can straighten things up here, if you two want to go chat? Make sure the cake stays safe in the bag, too, will you?” she said, trying to sound like she didn’t much care about what they might have to talk over.

“Very good idea, Elodie, thank you,” Sirius said. “Shall we?” he said to Remus.

“We’ll be back, then,” Remus said to Elodie as he got up.

“No rush, I’ll be right here.”

Elodie turned away from the direction the two men walked, and tried to look preoccupied. It would be up to Sirius to tell her, someday, about his secret, and until then, she was happy to keep her knowledge of it concealed. 

About ten minutes later, everything that could be sorted, straightened, conjured, or disappeared had been. Elodie sat herself not quite facing away from Remus and Sirius, but at an angle, so she could peek at them through her hair. They were talking and laughing. She smiled, and just as she was about to conjure up an object like a book to pass the time, she saw something fly up and over her head.

Elodie tipped her head back to look, and saw that there was a tiny, perfectly formed little woman with lacy wings flying in long, graceful loops above her head. She was gorgeous, her jet black hair trailing behind her as she sped up, flying down directly toward Elodie. Elodie ducked, putting her hand up to protect her face as she looked for the creature again. The creature had started another loop around Elodie’s head. She realized it had to be a fairy, and wondered where it had come from. Were they somehow in its territory? That thought touched up a spark of fear in her gut. Elodie looked over at where Remus and Sirius were talking, and called out, trying to get their attention.

“Remus?”

The fairy circled her head once more, deftly avoiding her arm when she raised her arm and waved at the two men, hoping that the movement would get their attention. Suddenly, Elodie felt a tingling sensation, and immediately afterwards, a lethargy that sapped her physical strength. In front of her, red sparkling glitter cascaded onto her lap, and she looked up to see the fairy scattering it all over her. 

She tried to get up, but the weakness that had hit her with the fairy dust was pervasive, and even the act of leaning over to crawl away felt completely beyond her.

“REMUS!” she screamed. Then, as she drew in a deep breath to yell Sirius’s name, she pulled in a large cloud of fairy dust. The fairy did a pirouette directly in front of her face, as if to taunt her with her choice to make herself so vulnerable by breathing in so much of the glittery poison. Elodie swatted at it with a great effort, but the vicious little thing was too fast. The movement knocked Elodie sideways, and she lifted her head to see Remus pointing at the treeline, his mouth open wide as if he were yelling. A second later, Sirius ran in the direction Remus had been pointing, and Elodie hoped it was for help. She also hoped help wouldn’t come too late.

“I need to tell you this quickly.” Remus finally came over to her, but he looked a little panicked, and that didn’t help when one was already under magical attack by a vindictive little pixie shooting life-stealing red glitter at you. 

Her eyes must have glazed over during her mental name-calling, because he snapped his fingers in front of her face, even as the fairy started crop-dusting his head, too. The particles slid off of a magical shield she could see hovering above him, but it was failing rapidly.

“Listen!” he said, and she nodded, her eyelashes catching some of the stuff. She could feel it there, and wondered if it looked cute. “This dust makes a person… possibly amorous,” Remus said, reddening. “It lowers inhibitions, takes away your ability to reason--” he was cut off by a huge puff of dust as the fairy blew a puff of it directly in his face. “It’s temporary,” he said, sinking to his knees. He cast a weak whirlwind spell in a last-ditch effort to keep at least one of them as unaffected as possible. Elodie knew she herself was toast. She felt dizzy and sleepy, and Remus looked like a knight in shining armor come to rescue her. 

Just before she passed out, she wondered if he’d try to wake her with a kiss. She hoped so.

 

8888888888888888

“Elodie.” 

Someone was shaking her shoulder.

“Elodie!”

The voice sounded upset, and she recognized it as Remus’s. She wanted to rest, but he was worried about her, she thought. He was so kind, and he’d struggled with keeping his friends safe. Her groggy brain fought to make the right muscle/nerve connections to open her eyes, if only to reassure Remus.

“Ellie, you must open your eyes for me. I can’t tell if you’re breathing properly,” Remus was saying now. He needed her to do something, and so Elodie would do it. She opened her eyes.

“You sent Sirius for help,” she whispered, fairy grit making her voice sound rough.

“Not exactly,” Remus replied. “Can you sit up?” He was kneeling beside her at a ninety degree angle, his knees just touching her side. When she nodded, he reached down and helped her, his arm almost cradling her head. 

It felt wonderful. He never touched her except to help, and she wondered why, if just a helpful gesture felt like  _ that. _ Maybe he didn’t know how good it felt?

“That feels nice,” Elodie told Remus.

“Oh  _ Merlin _ , you’re completely covered,” he said. Sitting up had dislodged a bunch of the red glittery dust from her chest, leaving sparkles scattered across her shirt, and a heap of the stuff in her lap.

“You could brush it off, if you want,” Elodie offered. Something felt really odd about saying that, but she couldn’t figure out why that would be.

“I would really like to do that,” Remus said, then winced. “I’m not going to. Elodie, you saw the fairy?”

“I don’t really like that glitter,” Elodie said, frowning. “It made me feel really weak, and I think it took away my think… my brain. I’m not thinking clearly,” she managed to say.

“Yes, exactly!” Remus smiled brightly at her. “I got less of it, so I’m a bit more brain. You remember what I told you?” He leaned over as if to blow at the fairy dust on Elodie’s lap, but she gathered her strength and put her hands out to stop him.

“No, Remus.” She shook her head, and he looked discouraged before she added,  “Blowing makes it puff up into your eyes,” she said. “You have nice eyes. You shouldn’t do that, okay?” She brushed some of the glittery dust from his hair, careful to keep it away from his face, so he didn’t breathe it in.

Remus checked his pocketwatch and groaned. He lifted his wand and tried to cast the spell he’d used on the mud from Sirius’s paws, but nothing happened.

“Okay, we need to move out of this stuff. I’ll help you up, if I actually get up, that is.”

Elodie leaned back and watched him stand, unsteadily. He held his arms out to balance himself for a minute, and she could see some of the scars where his arms were uncovered by sleeves. 

“I’m glad you know that I know that  _ you _ know I’m a werewolf,” she told him, quite seriously. “I didn’t like lying to you.”

“You are adorable,” he told her. “ _ I’m _ the werewolf, you know. You’re seriously overdosed on that stuff.”

He held out his hand to help her up, but Elodie was lost in thought. Something didn’t feel right, and she wanted to warn Remus, but the thread of danger kept slipping away from her. It was all the cloying, mind-altering dust that was clogging her mind pores or something, she thought. A different way to get free of it came to mind, and she rolled sideways and then wriggled backwards, leaving the bulk of the fairy dust on the blanket instead of her clothing.

When she looked back up at Remus, he’d turned away from her, his hands clenched into fists.

“Ugh,” Elodie groaned. “I feel… manipulated. I want to go swimming naked to get it cleaned off, and that’s got to be the dust talking. Even though that idea sounds great.”

“Yes,” Remus said through clenched teeth. “Inhibitions, remember?”

She was actually really grateful he was turned away from her, because she was wobbly as hell, trying to get up. She forced herself to hold her breath every time she leaned over to try to stand, because she knew her hair had to be thick with fairy dust. She absolutely hated the way it made her feel.

“Remus?” she called out. “Don’t turn around. I’m not naked or anything, I promise, I just… don’t turn around.”

“Right,” he gritted out.

“I just wanted to ask--does this stuff neural--neuteral--neutralo-- _ oh, fuck it _ \--stop all magic from working? Or just some? I have an idea.”

Remus couldn’t reply. He was laughing too hard, turning around to look at her with both hands over his mouth like a five year old.

Elodie just made an angry face at him and pulled out her wand, clumsily dodging a dusting of red sparkles that tipped off of her shoulder in the process. Then she cast a simple stasis charm on her hair, meant to freeze decorative glitter in a girl’s hair for a few hours.

“That grooming book  _ did _ came in handy!” Remus said admiringly.

“Yes, and you’ll never let me live it down, either,” Elodie grumbled, casting the charm experimentally on her shirt, then her arms, legs, and, after kicking vigorously with one hand covering her mouth and nose just in case, her feet. “Would you like me to do you?” she asked, gesturing with her wand toward him.

Remus turned bright red.

“Right. Badly phrased,” she said, shaking her head. No fairy dust drifted down as she did so, not even a particle. Elodie walked closer to him, feeling more confident now that felt she’d mostly shaken off the influence of the dust. “I’m going to brush some of it off, first, because--” With a flourish, she conjured up a localized shield charm on her hands, though she couldn’t quite see the blue glow it left behind. “Getting my magic back,  _ thank God. _ ”

Remus was breathing very heavily now, despite the way the movement of his chest caused the fairy dust particles to drift off of his shoulders and particularly his hair, falling down into his face. 

“I’m not sure it’s completely...” he started to say, but stopped as soon as she rested a gentle hand over his nose and started to gently brush the dust back and away. 

“Hold onto me, will you? You’re tall,” she said, reaching over and grabbing one of hands, and placing it at her waist. “There.” She stretched up and leaned his head to one side, carding her magically protected hand through his soft hair to get the bulk of the fairy dust to fall out.

“Elodie,” he whispered, but she ignored him. His hair was back to its sandy brown, and she stretched even farther on her tiptoes to blow the last remnants of fairy dust from his neck. “Ellie,” Remus breathed, right in her ear. She shivered, holding on to his shoulders for balance. When she tipped her head back to look at him, his pupils were blown out, clearly still under the influence. He brought his other hand up to brush against her cheek, holding it up to show her the red smear of fairy dust on his thumb that came away.

“Oh,” she said. The noise almost sounded like a moan.

“Tactical error, I think,” Remus said softly. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

Elodie realized she was almost wrapped around him. “I should--” His hand slid around the back of her head, his fingernails leaving delicious trails of sensation at the nape of her neck. She bit her lip, trying to focus, but saw that he was looking at her mouth. “Away. Should move,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he begged.

“This isn’t--” she tried to say, but stopped and leaned her head against his chest as his fingers on her neck touched a particularly sensitive spot. He smelled so good, but her calves burned, and she let herself drop back onto her feet. “This isn’t you. I’m not--” she tried to say, but then his other hand slid up along her body to her neck, gently tipping her head back up toward him. “Yours,” she gasped, just as he leaned down and kissed her.

Up until the second their lips met she was certain he’d pull away, and when he didn’t, she made a desperate sound of delight, clutching at his shirt and pressing herself to him. His answering groan made her heart stop. She felt like her blood had caught fire, racing along and touching up an inferno as she slid her arms around his neck. Everywhere his hands moved felt right; across her back, buried in her hair, sliding down to grasp the hem of her shirt in his fist.

“Mine,” he murmured.

_ “Yes,” _ Elodie rejoiced against his lips, all objections completely forgotten. 

This was how they were meant to be, all adoration and worship with lips and hands. Remus was a confident kisser, and a possessive one, as well. His dominance was generous; he held her close and took control, but his hands moved over her face, her back, and her hair gently and reverently. Elodie’s legs started to tremble with the physical effort of holding herself up as close to him as she could, and when Remus noticed, he adjusted his hold on her to lift her up, then sank down to sit on the blanket with her on his lap.

“Oh my God, you are so strong, that is incredibly sexy, let me tell you,” she gushed, adjusting her legs so the she straddled him. When she settled onto his lap in that position, he let out a sound close to a growl and buried his head in her hair, breathing in.

“Ahh that feels-- you  _ smell _ so--” Remus’s voice sounded wrecked.

Elodie rocked her hips just a little, and he lifted his head and looked at her with such want and affection that she smirked, secure in her ability to please him.

“I am just never going to let you go, you know that?” he said to her, his voice low and resonant and possessive.

Elodie let her eyes drift shut in delight, then just as she could feel him moving close to kiss her again, his hand coming up to brush his thumb against her lips, she said,  _ “Perfect.” _

Remus let his thumb drag her mouth open just a little when he kissed her, replacing it with his tongue. Elodie couldn’t get enough of how he felt, how he smelled up close, like chocolate and clean wool, mixed with the pine scent from the nearby trees. When the kiss ended and they came up for air, Remus nosed her hair out of the way and kissed along her neck, and the sense memory from the night of the full moon made her shiver.

“Are you all right?” he said softly, into her ear. 

_ “Gods, _ yes,” she told him. He carded his hand through her hair, his other hand rubbing along her lower back, just under her thin shirt. She rested her head against his chest, just to hear what his heartbeat sounded like when he was touching her, and she felt and heard him make a pleased sort of ‘mmm’ sound.

It was when Elodie made a similar noise and kissed where his heart lay, her lips against his shirt, that she felt a subtle change. Remus lifted his head, kissed her forehead, and then his movements felt like he’d seen something.

“Hmm. Sirius is here,” Remus said, the hand that had been caressing her back coming up to tangle in her hair instead. Elodie lifted up her head to look at him, trying to figure out what seemed different.

“We gave him Harry’s cake, remember?”

Remus smiled, full of affection, and leaned in to kiss her fondly. It was the sort of familiar kiss one gives a person they’re comfortable with. “Yes, but why is he back?”

“Do you want me to move?” Elodie asked him, her lips at his ear. The shiver he made when she accidentally brushed his earlobe with her lips was very, very gratifying.

_ “No,” _ he said, pressing up against her hips, and she slid her hands up to bury them in his hair as she showed him just how much she liked that with her lips and tongue. “Mmm,” Remus groaned, then, “--but that doesn’t seem like me, does it?”

Elodie dragged her eyes back open and made eye contact, though it was hard, because Remus was doing something with the nape of her neck that made her need to be kissing him  _ right now _ .

“It doesn’t, you’re right,” she admitted. “Argh,” she grumbled, placing her hands on his shoulders and arching her back, turning her head this way and that to get all of her hair loose.

“Wow,” Remus said, using both hands to support her weight. When she pulled herself back upright, his eyes were dark and full of approval. 

The position change had pulled her back away from his torso, so she was resting almost at his knees. She heard Sirius call out their names, and she slid sideways, off of Remus’s legs, onto the blanket.

“Wait, just one more--” Remus said. He slid his own body sideways, up onto his knees, and he leaned in towards her and kissed her. It felt amazing, full of affection and longing and passion--but it also felt off, somehow. It was a partner kiss, an in love kiss--a ‘you know your lover and just what they like’ kind of kiss.

When Remus pulled away that time, his eyes were clouded and confused--and a little frantic.

“What’s wrong?” Elodie asked, lifting her hand to cup his face.

“This,” he said, stricken, and kissed her again, just once, incredibly tenderly.

“Oh,” she said, her eyes wide, thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t get to do this, do I?” she asked him, the question itself seeming all of a sudden far too honest and revealing to ask.

“No, I don’t think so,” Remus replied, pulling his hands away from her as though the action took a great deal of effort. Elodie moved her hand slightly in preparation for pulling away as well, and suddenly Remus clasped it against his face, then kissed her palm, fervently.

Elodie took in a shaky breath and bit her lip. “We’re not--”

“No, I think something happened.”

They both heard footsteps, then, and somehow Elodie knew that Sirius must have seen them, not only seen them but also must have deliberately  _ slowed _ his pace to come near them.

“I’m--” Elodie swallowed and tried not to moan as Remus nosed a caress on her wrist before letting go of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

A look of sadness came over Remus’s face and he brushed his hair back from his face, where it had tipped into his eyes as he’d kissed her hand. She ached to brush it back, but knew she didn’t have the right to.

“Don’t be sorry,” Remus told her, rocking back to sit on his heels, away from her. “This was--” he laughed humorlessly, in a bitter sort of way that made her ache again, this time to comfort him. “This was clearly magic.”

The way he said the last word was almost embossed with regret, and Elodie wondered if the double meaning was as apparent to him as it was to her. His touch  _ was _ magic, and she wasn’t entitled to it, and never had been.

“I’m sorry, it’s a little more than the hour,” Sirius said, walking over to stand at the edge of the blanket. 

Elodie closed her eyes and sighed, lifting her hands to rub at her face, but she felt a man’s hands ring around her wrists to stop her.

She knew they weren’t Remus’s hands. She knew what his (gentle, loving) touch felt like, now.

Elodie leaned her head back to look at Sirius with a question in her eyes.

“The fairy dust, it’s still all over the place, I don’t know if it’s still potent, but I don’t want you to scratch yourself with it, at least,” he said by way of apology.

“Oh, God. Fairy dust,  _ that’s  _ what’s--right. Right, thank you, very smart.” Elodie worked her way through her realization of what had happened in her response to Sirius, and ended up at a place of being severely disappointed and resigned to the conclusion she’d come to.

“Thanks, Sirius,” Remus said, behind her. Sirius released her hands and left one of his own outstretched to help her up. She could hear Remus casting spells to rid himself of the fairy dust, but she didn’t go over to him and ask for help. Normally, she would have, as his expertise and wealth of knowledge would mean he’d be far more efficient than she was, but somehow she just didn’t want to come into contact with his magic. Right now, that would just be too intimate, she thought.

Honestly, just  _ looking _ at him right now would probably feel too intimate.

All of the things she’d learned about him, the way he shivered when she slid her fingers into the hair behind his left ear, the sounds he made when she pressed up against him, the way he  _ tasted-- _ all of those things weren’t any of her business. That knowledge wrecked her. She wondered if he felt anywhere near as awful at the loss of her, and decided she didn’t want to know.

“So I think a memory charm, a mild one, might be a good idea, based on your current expressions,” Sirius volunteered delicately. He rushed on to add, “Remus suggested that, when he first noticed the fairy. He sent me off--rather imperiously, I thought, by the way, Moony--to come back after, well… whatever happened.”

“Seela Fairy,” Remus said. “They’re, ah… a  _ fertility _ fairy.” He walked away from them, toward the edge of the forest.

“Oh, good God,” Elodie blurted out. “I am  _ the _ most mortified person in the whole world right now.”

“That’s debatable,” Sirius said under his breath. She looked up to see him shooting a worried glance at Remus, but she didn’t let herself look at Remus herself. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Sirius said to her, then walked over toward Remus.

Elodie cast a cleaning and a folding spell on the blanket, then frowned, shook it out, and folded it by hand. Then, she buried her face in the blanket and screamed, just a little bit.

Elodie didn’t know how long she stared off into the distance and thought about kissing Remus. She was actually very grateful that Sirius had gone to Remus first, because selfishly, it meant she could hold onto those amazing memories for just that little bit longer, before Sirius would take them away with a cast of his wand.

The worst part about all of it was the easy, relaxed way he’d treated her. It was so painfully close to the way he usually did treat her that she could see how realistic and wonderful their relationship would be, if they had one.

Suddenly, Sirius’s hand waved in front of her face.

“Earth to Elodie,” he whispered.

“Go away,” she whispered back, then looked over at him. There was pity on his face.

“I get it,” he said, coming closer and bumping his shoulder against her. “It looked fun.”

“I’d do it again without the fairy dust, that’s for sure,” she said without thinking. “Shit,  _ shit _ . Forget I said that.”

“I will, if you need me to, but I won’t say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Elodie looked over at him again. “Sort of? I just don’t want to make Remus uncomfortable. I mean,  _ we _ won’t remember, but…”

“About that,” Sirius said, and Elodie almost hurt her neck turning to look at him so fast. “I am a bit concerned about the memory charm, for you. Remus mentioned you’ve just experienced the effects of a powerful memory curse. I don’t know if I’m comfortable casting befuddlement on you--it might react badly.”

“Define ‘badly,’” Elodie said flatly.

“Like you could possibly forget months’ worth of your life, badly.” Sirius didn’t say anything for a full minute, then he walked into her line of sight and dipped his head down to make eye contact. “Elodie?”

“I’m thinking,” she said.

“You are? Oh.  _ OH.” _

“No, no, no,” Elodie rushed to say, realizing that Sirius was starting to understand her reticence. “If you think it’s not safe, don’t do it. I’ll deal, okay?”

“It’s not as if something can’t or won’t happen later on between you two if--”

_ “Please _ don’t finish that sentence.” Elodie shut her eyes so tightly she saw stars.

“He’ll think you forgot, just like he did. Can you… Is that something you’re comfortable with pretending?”

She looked up at Sirius and said, “Yes. I could probably have done with knowing this was the option you were going with  _ before _ I stood here and re-lived everything in glorious technicolor thinking those memories were going to be wiped within the hour, but…” she blurted out in a rush. “Gods, I’m a mess. You can wipe  _ that _ from  _ your _ memory, if you like.”

“Honestly, Elodie, I saw our grand plans of house sharing going down in red glitter flames just over an hour ago. This alternative is better.”

“You are so right,” she told Sirius, smiling.

“All right, so, I’ll just cast an innocuous charm as cover, here, then I’ll head over and cast Remus’s befuddlement--”

“Wait,” Elodie said. “You haven’t cast it on Remus, yet?”

“No, I--”

Elodie knew she was impulsive. She always had been. On this day, Elodie’s impulse was to do something completely ridiculous, but as soon as she thought of it, she decided she was totally going to try to do it, if she had enough guts to. She patted Sirius’s shoulder and walked over towards Remus. Her heart was pounding so hard she figured he wouldn’t even need werewolf reflexes to know she was coming, but she was completely terrified that this was her last chance to do this one outrageous, extravagant action.

“Remus?” Elodie said. It occurred to her in the seconds it took for him to turn toward her that  _ this _ moment, where she saw how he reacted to her, was also incredibly valuable to her. If he couldn’t look her in the eye, their house sharing plans might  _ still _ go up in red glitter flames. If he looked at her negatively before he lost all memory of what they’d done together, she wouldn’t be able to forget that, ever.

Remus turned, saw her, and smiled, though the pleased expression on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. She supposed that was totally fair--theirs had been a strange experience.

“Would you mind if I just--” Elodie faltered. Remus wasn’t going to let her touch him, of  _ course _ he wouldn’t. “Never mind, this was silly,” she said, and started to turn away from him.

“Elodie, wait, what is it?” His voice was kind, and he sounded concerned, so she gave herself permission to turn back around.

“I just have this weird compulsion to, will you bear with me, just a second? I won’t do anything… embarrassing,” she promised.

Remus’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t hesitate to say, “I trust you.”

She didn’t try to hide the way his words made her light up to hear them. She actually put down all of her defenses, all of her protections from showing how she really felt--even from herself. Elodie let her love for him shine brightly on her face. She took a step toward him.

“I think it’s not all gone, so I just wanted to--” she stepped closer again, and Remus put his hands down at his sides in a gesture so gentlemanly and careful she laughed with the joy of seeing how genuinely  _ good _ he was. Elodie stopped herself from telling him how much she loved how considerate he was, but then realized she had an excuse, for these few minutes.

She lifted her hand up and then, when he nodded ever so slightly, she slid her hand through his hair and down, to cup his face, just for a moment. The bracelet he’d conjured for her slid back from her wrist to fall against her upper arm, thanks to the angle. “Thank you. You really are the most considerate, lovely person,” she whispered. “I loved who I was--who  _ we _ were, back there. I just had to get that out, before it’s all gone.”

She pulled her hand away from the warmth of him and held it close to her own chest. As she turned to jog back toward Sirius, she she saw Remus shut his eyes and heard him take in a deep breath.

She imagined that he was probably sighing in relief that she hadn’t accosted him further.

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{author’s note: FACEPALM CITY, ELODIE. A MILLION MILLION FACEPALMS.}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea with the fairy is that it finds couples capable of having babies in its habitat and then tries to dose them with the fairy dust to get them going. In my head, they're one of the magical creatures that have a kind of truce with the Ministry of Magic, where they're not eradicated for being pests, but there are limits they have to follow--hence the hour.


	11. Adulting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie does the impossible and forces Remus to accept a compliment. Then, the two of them go and tour the house they might share with Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowling didn’t have quite the internet superstructure we do now when she wrote PoA, and thus she set her full moons when they were useful for the plot (PoA ends with one on approximately the 6th or 9th of June, when it really was May 24th, for example), and so I have decided to forgive myself the stress of being hyper accurate with them, either. They’re just about 4 weeks apart, every time, and that’s close enough for a hobby!

That night, Elodie dreamed about Remus. She imagined this would be a theme for quite a long time. In her dream, though, he wasn’t all that different from normal Remus--so much so that Dream Elodie hadn’t actually realized it was a dream at first. In her dream, Elodie and Remus were having their final courtyard book chat, as they were about to move into a house with Sirius. After they’d finished talking, though, Remus had stood up and reached out for her hand, pulling her in for a kiss. Then, they’d walked toward Hollyfield holding hands.

When she woke up, Elodie was tempted to roll back over to chase the dream. Instead, she sat up and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, dangling her feet over the edge of her bed. Her legs weren’t quite long enough for her feet to touch the floor. 

“It’s time to be an adult, Ellie,” she said to herself out loud.

Today, being an adult would mean going to speak with Winnifred about leaving Hollyfield sometime in the next month or so. It would mean waiting for an Owl from Sirius about the house he’d found. It would also mean pretending she didn’t know exactly how much Remus Lupin liked it when she--

“NOPE,” she told herself. She covered her eyes with both hands, but that didn’t stop her brain from conjuring up images from yesterday. She covered her ears, but his delighted groan still echoed there. “I might have to go punch Sirius Black in the face,” she said thoughtfully. It probably wouldn’t help.

No, the truly adult thing would be to give Remus a few weeks, maybe a month, and then broadly hint about finding him attractive. Confess to him that she wanted to hold his hand. Flat-out tell him she wanted to kiss him.

And then watch as Remus Lupin, he of the ‘too old, too poor, too dangerous’ line of excuses would then systematically cut himself off from her for his own good and hers, and bottle up his uncomplicated smiles and relaxed book chats. Because, of course, he wouldn’t remember how amazing it was to be loved, and love her back. Then again, if he did remember, he might be so uncomfortable with those memories and so concerned that he was presuming on a nonexistent previous relationship she might never get to spend any time with him anyway!

“Arrrghhhhhhh,” Elodie groaned, falling backwards on her bed and flailing her hands out to cover her face with pillows.

Today, she didn’t even think lists would help, not that she would let this stop her from writing one. It was a short list, she thought, with only one step, because each step in the overarching ‘Someday Maybe Elodie Will Get Back to That One Glorious Day In the Meadow’ list would require massive amounts of observation and calculation before deciding the next step.

> Step One: Shared house.

 

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> Dear Sirius,
> 
> Greetings from Hollyfield, soon to be an ex-residence, I hope! Was that too pushy? I hope not, but if it was, you can just punch my shoulder and bitch about it next time I see you, which will Not Be In A Meadow.
> 
> Things are surprisingly normal here, so thanks for casting your memory charm on at least one of us, anyway. During the week since I saw you last, both Remus and I have spoken to Winnifred--and thank you for Owling Remus about the house, I’m looking forward to coming and seeing it as soon as the viewing is set up with the landlord (push, push). Remus says to tell you (as I told him I am writing you, which got him grumbling) that he’s also happy about seeing the house, and that Winnifred is fine with his moving out when need be (ditto on that).
> 
> Remus’s Wolfsbane is at the end of stirring stage in a few days, and the second cauldron is set to be transferred in exactly one week. It’ll be just fine to be transported in stasis, I asked Horace Slughorn about it to be sure. The only week that is iffy is the actual full moon week, which is in about ten days. Winnifred says that if we need overlap for the potions room, that’s fine, as it had been a dis-used supply room before I took it over. That is, of course, me being super optimistic about House Stuff, because being an adult is hard work sometimes, and right now my carrot on a stick is our house.
> 
> I don’t know how else to say this next bit, but you seem to not mind my bluntness, and you can’t hex me until you see me next, so I’ll just come out with this: Sirius Black, don’t you  _ dare _ try to sneak into the Quidditch World Cup. It’s days and days away, but I just have this feeling. Please, just don’t?
> 
> Fondest Regards,
> 
> Elodie
> 
> Ps. Remus seems actually unhappy that we’re writing to each other. It’s the oddest thing, because he’s looking forward to us all living together but writing letters is somehow a step too far? Though the first letter was pre house discussion, so now I really have no idea. So weird. Thoughts?

Elodie read and reread the postscript four times before deciding to leave it and rolling up the parchment. As she did so, she had a thrill of recognition that rolling up parchment letters in preparation to Owl them was second nature to her now. 

She wished she had someone to talk to about what had happened to her. It seemed like this new life of hers was permanent, and there was an odd kind of finality about finding a house to live in and moving out of the place she’d been when she ‘arrived.’ 

A glance at the sun’s progress across the sky through her window told her she was a bit late for her book chat in the courtyard. Today it was the turn for her educational book, and Elodie grabbed one she’d gotten about Animagi, both the theory and practical applications on the transformation. Sirius hadn’t mentioned how he’d gotten out of Azkaban, and Elodie didn’t intend to pry, but she dearly wanted to know more about it. 

Remus wasn’t there when she got outside, and Elodie checked the time in the dining room with a frown. She’d need to get a pocketwatch like Remus’s, she told herself, because transfiguring them was too advanced for her current skillset. Elodie walked back outside and stood still in the middle of the courtyard. The three men who were always challenging each other in Wizard’s Chess were at it again in their shaded corner, and a new resident who looked very tired and very pregnant was talking with Ruth at the far end of the courtyard.

“I wonder…” Elodie said to herself. She pulled out her wand and, pointing it at the table, she transfigured an empty vase into a shallow dish. Then, she spoke the incantation that was meant to conjure up candy a person was very familiar with. A small pile of the ginger hard candies she’d been picturing appeared.

“Yessssss!” she crowed, grabbing one and popping it into her mouth. A sense-memory came to mind of driving long distances to Michigan to visit family, herself in the back, carsick and desperately sucking on one of those candies. 

These treats had helped every time, and Elodie hoped this was applicable to all nausea. She’d seen the new pregnant resident, named Loria, standing outside the breakfast area that morning, looking longingly inside. Elodie hadn’t meant to overhear, but Loria had said something to Winnifred about how for her, the nausea associated with pregnancy just had never gone away.

Elodie picked up the little candy plate and walked over to Loria, waiting patiently for Ruth to stop talking (thankfully, the older witch had seen her and stopped, which Elodie knew from experience was about a 50/50 chance). Loria was very sweet and thankful, and Elodie promised her that she’d be happy to look into a sustainable way of getting them, if they worked--and that she wouldn’t be upset in the slightest if they didn’t.

Elodie was smiling and lost in thought when she walked back to where she’d left her book, so she missed that Remus was standing beside it until she’d nearly walked into him.

“That was very kind of you,” he said, nodding in Loria’s direction.

Elodie blushed. “We’ll see. I kind of assumed she knew what the term ‘car sick’ meant. So unless she’s at least part Muggle, I’m not sure she’ll know what I was talking about,” she said dismissively. She picked up her book and slid her finger along the top to find the bookmark she’d left, then went to settle into her usual seat.

“It was obvious from where I was standing,” Remus said, behind her. He came over and sat beside her. Their chairs had been moved, since two days before, and were now much closer together. When Elodie shifted from her customary position of sitting with her feet curled up underneath her, she brushed against his knee as she slid her legs back down.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” Remus said, a little color staining his cheeks. He didn’t move his leg, though. “On to Transfiguration from Ancient Runes so quickly, then?” He nodded at her book with a hint of a smile.

“I know when to admit defeat, what can I say?” she told him. “I maybe,  _ possibly _ chose a book too advanced for my current skill level and got frustrated.”

“That does sound plausible,” he said, playing along. “So naturally you moved on to the pinnacle of Transfiguration?” Remus didn’t look over, but paged through his own book (which wasn’t a book as much as it was a collection of magical medical journals, which were their own kind of fascinating to her). She could tell that he was deliberately not looking at her because she’d probably make him smile.

He was so adorable it actually physically hurt her heart, just then.

“Know your limits, I always say,” Elodie quipped.

“Now  _ that _ is inaccurate. I happen to know that you find very little patience for limits.”

“Hmm,” Elodie said. That earned her a glance. “I don’t know which avenue of hyperbole to go with at this point. Should I joke about writing five letters a day to our favorite cave dweller or imply that I just don’t feel a challenge unless I’m brewing with Aconite in a blindfold.”

“I think you could find a measure of success in whatever you decided to try your hand in, honestly,” Remus said. His voice held the kind of sincerity that made her blush, and she looked over at him curiously to see that his ears were actually turning red. This was new.

“You have a really delightful way of complimenting a person,” Elodie said. “The kind that makes one feel _known_ , in a lovely way. Thank you.”

“One-upped again,” he said, turning his head in her direction to smile at her, finally. She felt she’d really earned it this time. “That is simply the pinnacle of compliments.”

“It’s the least I can say about the best man I know,” Elodie said. Her comment had bypassed her internal check monitor for behavior around Lupin, but today she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She did, however, keep her eyes on her book, just as he had, even though she could practically feel  _ his _ eyes boring into the side of her head. After five full minutes, the length of which stopped her from expecting a response, he finally formulated one.

“Well played,” Remus said.

Elodie laughed. “I think I can go to sleep feeling accomplished, now. I can’t imagine doing anything more difficult than forcing Remus Lupin to accept a compliment,” she teased.

“Hmph,” was his only response. They sat quietly reading for another hour, exchanging smiles intermittently until dinner was underway.

 

8888888888888888

As per Sirius’s next letter (this time to Remus), the owners of the house were Muggles, but their son was magical. Thus, he offered to let them use his Floo, and then they could walk the twenty or so minutes to his father’s rental property. Sirius had agreed on a time for them to look at the house, which he told Remus in his letter would have to be late in the day, around 6:15 PM. Sirius himself would have to miss it, as he’d used magic to obscure his identity to the man during their brief conversations about the house, calling himself Remus’s real estate agent. Using a glamour like that got more difficult when around more people, and with how famous Sirius had gotten thanks to the Daily Prophet articles, none of them thought he should risk it. 

“Knowing Sirius, he’s probably broken in to the place and poked around at least once, anyway,” Remus had said to Elodie after he’d shown her the letter.

When Elodie walked down the staircase at Hollyfield to meet Remus at the Floo, Remus did a bit of a double take when he saw her.

“You weren’t wearing a dress earlier, I thought,” he said.

“I wanted to look a little nicer,” she said, smoothing her hand down her skirt a little self-consciously. “I mean, we’re going to look at a house, just the two of us, the owner might, I don’t know, make some assumptions.” 

When she’d picked the green top and matching rich brown skirt, she’d been thinking about offsetting any assumptions the man might make about how much money they had for renting. Remus’s aghast expression and full face blush told her his thoughts had gone to the other possible conclusion. They would look like a couple looking for a house together, since without Sirius, that was pretty much what they were.

Elodie tried to tell herself that Remus wasn’t repelled by the idea of  _ her _ as much as the idea that a stranger would be judging them, but given what she knew, what she  _ remembered _ , it was a hard sell for her internal critic.

“Remus, the expression on your face right now is ‘horror,’ did you know that?” she bravely told him.

“I--” Remus started to say, then stopped, blinking at her. “Do you want to go by yourself?”

Elodie closed her eyes for a few seconds, tamping down her temper. When she opened them, Remus now looked more worried than horrified, but this wasn’t much improvement.

“Okay, come here a sec,” she said, pulling him off to an alcove near the stairs instead of right in the center of the room, observable by any other residents. “For my own self-esteem, here, I’m going to have to ask you something--”

Remus didn’t let her finish. “Self-esteem? Elodie, this isn’t about you, it’s about how I--”

“Stop.” She put a hand on his shoulder and held up the other one almost in his face. Elodie tried to keep a tight rein on her emotions, but even though she actually understood him enough to guess what he’d been thinking, it was important that he understand her. “You don’t mean to give the impression you’re giving, but it’s a hurtful one, and I’m telling you that because I’m your friend. Can I just explain where I’m coming from, here?”

Remus’s jaw was set at a stubborn angle, but he nodded.

“You don’t want the house guy to think we’re a couple, right? No editorializing,” she warned him, her ‘stop’ hand now held up as just one finger, teacher style.

“Right,” he confirmed.

“That’s because you know things about yourself that you consider to be disreputable?”

“I’m--” Elodie’s eyes widened as she recognized he was trying to launch into an explanation. “Fine. Yes,” he said.

“Does that man have any way of knowing anything about you?”

His expression was no longer mulish, but he still looked unhappy. “Fine, no.”

“Can you understand how, to me, your objections look more like they’re about  _ me _ as a person, and not the house guy?”

“Shit.  _ Now  _ I do.” Remus stepped back and covered his face with his hand for a brief second.

“I’m really sorry I lectured you just there but you’re not an unkind person, and I couldn’t let that go, not after-- I couldn’t let that go.”

“After what?” Remus asked, a flush starting to color his ears as Elodie just looked at him for a minute.

“The, um--” The half hour bell chimed from the dining area, and Elodie swore to herself. “Argh I  _ hate _ being late, we’ve better go. You have the Floo address, right?”

“It’s right here,” Remus said, pulling the letter from Sirius from an inside jacket pocket. “I’ll hand it to you, and you can hold it up for me to read as I step through, all right?”

“Yes, thank you. See you there,” Elodie said. After Remus disappeared in a flash of green fire, Elodie frowned at the clock above the fireplace. With the twenty or so minute walk to the house, and time taken to inspect it, there probably wouldn’t be much left for her to Floo back to Hollyfield for the Wolfsbane stir. She would have to Apparate again.

Elodie sighed, picked up a handful of Floo powder, and stepped into the Hollyfield fireplace, reading off her destination from Sirius’s letter and immediately scrunching her eyes shut as the transportation began. 

Remus caught her as she spun out, ash flying from the ends of her skirt. 

“Are you all right?” he asked her, brushing some ash from a shoulder. 

“Yes, thank you. One of these days I’ll have to go first, so you’re not the only one on catching duty!” she told him in a teasing voice as she ran her hands through her hair to check for ash.

“I hate to disappoint you, Elodie, but--”

“You don’t stumble, do you? You just step out all elegant and tall. Argh,” Elodie grumbled with her hands on her hips.

“Well, you’re clearly Elodie and Remus,” a man’s voice said from farther into the room.

“Yes, sorry, hello,” Elodie said, stepping forward to look for the owner of the voice. It was a man of medium height, with blonde hair hanging down past his shoulders, a bright blue shirt, and Muggle jeans. He looked about ten years older than they did, with a welcoming smile and kind brown eyes.

“I’m Bart,” he said. “I was just hoping I hadn’t written the time down wrong.”

“That was my fault,” Remus told him quickly. “I said something daft, had to work it out.”

“Ah, yes, my wife and I have come across that sometimes,” Bart laughed, turning to show them the way to the front door. “House’s not connected to the Floo right now or I’d have brought you there directly, but it’s a nice day for a walk, and Paddy said you wouldn’t mind.”

Elodie mouthed  _ Paddy?! _ to Remus, but he seemed preoccupied. She knew that had to be Sirius, and officially she knew that Remus was associated with a  _ dog _ named Padfoot, but she didn’t officially know Padfoot was Sirius, after all. There was a very high chance that Sirius had chosen that name solely for them to react when they heard it, the cheeky bastard.

It was a nice day for a walk. There was a light breeze, and she’d been careful to choose shoes that would be easy on her feet.  _ Thank goodness for the 90’s and their obsession with boots and skirts! _ she thought to herself. This made her laugh, and Remus looked over from his conversation with Bart about the house.

“I didn’t mean to leave you out?” he said, forming it as a question in that way he had. It would stand as an apology if need be, or as a question if not.

“Don’t worry, I’m just pretending to be a grown-up, you’re the real deal,” she said to him.

“Being a Potions Master is plenty grown up, Elodie,” Remus reminded her. “I’m not sure that many of us ever feel as responsible as we thought our teachers and parents were when we were kids, anyway.”

“A Potions Master! That’s a long internship. My wife looked into it when she was in school, but in the end, Charms were her real passion. Now it’s our son who’s interested, but he’s not a Slytherin, and the professor they’ve got at Hogwarts doesn’t seem to take well to Hufflepuffs,” Bart said.

“That would be Professor Snape,” Remus said. His color had gone slightly pale, and Elodie knew it had to be because of the way the school year had ended. The Slytherin students had all been told about their DADA professor’s lycanthropy. Had the news made it through the whole school? She doubted that even if it had, the parent of a Hufflepuff would gossip about it to practical strangers. That wouldn’t stop Remus’s worries, though.

Remus was still Remus, though, and his next words proved it.

“If your son is interested in Potions, I can speak to the headmaster about it. Snape is… exacting, but that’s because he has little patience. If he knew your son truly loved the discipline, it might change his attitude, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” asked Bart.

“In my opinion, a good teacher doesn’t teach differently based on what they know about their students,” Remus said softly. Elodie could just hug him. She hoped his words stemmed from more positive experiences in Hogwarts than not.

“If Professor Snape wasn’t there when you were at Hogwarts, that means you probably had Slughorn, right?” Elodie asked Bart.

“I did indeed! He was something else. Had a special party every so often for all his favorites, my wife told me. She was invited in her fifth year, right after she held the Gryffindors to no points in the final as Keeper.” Bart’s face showed his pride for his wife as he spoke. “Youngest Keeper in fifty years to do that,  _ and _ against Gryffindor.”

“We weren’t much for winning the House Cup, but we did have brilliant Chasers,” Remus said, smiling.

“Ah, here we are, coming up on it,” Bart told them, pointing.

Ahead of them was a little rise in the path, and beyond it was a small house, surrounded on one side by a fenced garden. On the side that faced them and the setting sun was the front door, and beside it was a large, beautiful picture window that looked out toward the path they were on. Elodie remembered that they’d walked through a grove of apple trees on their way, and she wondered what they might look like from the house. Given that the main house seemed to be raised from the ground, the view from that lovely big window probably felt like you were floating. She wondered if it was set into a hillside she couldn’t see from her vantage point, or just built that way as a design element.

“You coming?”

Elodie looked up to see Remus facing her, with Bart farther along the path.

“I was just captivated,” she confessed, walking quickly to catch up. “It’s lovely!” When they walked past the garden fencing to get to the front steps, Bart turned to point at the plants inside.

“Not very cultivated right now, I’m afraid, but with you a Potions Master I’m sure you’ll think of something to start planting in there.”

Elodie hid her massive grin in Remus’s upper arm for a long second.

“Are you going to make it?” he asked, not pulling away as she’d expected him to.

“I’m sorry, house hunters aren’t supposed to show how much or how little they like a place, and I’m shooting that all to hell!” she whispered to him.

The rest of the house being simply perfect didn’t do Elodie’s resolve not to show her delight any favors. The kitchen was lovely, the living room a bit larger than she’d expected, and the two bedrooms at the back were charming. The basement was also larger than she’d anticipated, with a laundry room that had plenty of space to move around, a wide open storage area in the middle corresponding to the living room’s space upstairs, and then a pantry area that surrounded the stairway from the kitchen. Because the main body of the house had been built lifted a few yards off of the ground, the basement had windows a bit larger than those Elodie was used to seeing in basements in America.

It was absolutely, completely perfect.

“Ellie says we’re not supposed to look delighted, but I’m delighted,” Remus told Bart. His use of her nickname was unconscious, Elodie figured, but that just showed his own happiness at how the viewing had gone.

“He’s right, but I’m equally delighted,” Elodie confessed. “How much?”

“Paddy says I’m to tell you he’s got that all covered, no matter how much you push,” Bart said, looking pleased. 

“That just leaves: when?” Remus said.

“I’ll let you in on this--Paddy planned to meet me, next morning. He was pretty certain you two would fall in love with it. I’ve got a few things left that you probably saw, in the basement, and there’s the lean-to out past the fence that I’ve got to clear out. I’d say, maybe a week?”

“Yes,” Elodie and Remus both said at the same time. Bart laughed.

“Well, I’ll let you two--”

Elodie’s spelled potion alarm suddenly went off from her skirt pocket.

“7:45 already!” she exclaimed.

“We’ll need to get going. Thank you so much,” Remus told Bart, reaching out to shake his hand. The two men spoke for a few minutes longer as Elodie went back into the kitchen to make sure she didn’t leave anything behind. There was a pop of Apparition behind her, that she was certain was Bart.

“Well, that’s the nice thing about magic, I suppose. He can lock the door with us inside,” she said, mostly to herself.

“I’m sorry, Elodie,” Remus said from the doorway. She turned around and looked at him, confused. “You’ll have to Apparate.”

“Oh,” she said. “I knew that, actually. That part isn’t your fault, really. It was going to be tight, time-wise, anyway.”

“Even without the delay, you’re Apparating because of me,” he pointed out.

“Worth it,” she told him in a no-nonsense tone. “I just need to settle my jitters about it, that’s all. I’m always afraid the fear itself will be what ends up splinching me.” She walked along the line of countertop and stove, tapping her fingernails to distract herself as she took a long, deep breath. 

Suddenly, Remus said to her, “Let me do it. Again, I mean. I’m more confident, and it’s not that much of a walk from my room compared to yours.”

She looked at him. He looked nervous, guilty, and a bit jittery himself. She could understand the first two (her objections, it was due to his delay and his potion), but the latter was a mystery. Still, she did not have time to argue, and she trusted him implicitly. Without saying anything, she walked straight over to him and slipped her arm around his waist, looking up at his face with gratitude. His arm came to snug against her side, and she fought the urge to clasp his hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she said, as he took a deep breath.

“Anytime,” he said, his lips close to the top of her head. Just before they turned, it felt like he rested his chin on her head, but the miserable wrenching jerk of the spell dragged her from one place to another before she could categorize the feeling.

He’d Apparated them into his own room again, and Elodie ended up clinging to Remus desperately to catch her breath and regain her senses  _ again. _ When she could open her eyes again, her glance around the room told her he had settled into the place more than she herself had, with no desk, but a bookshelf in the same wood. 

“Go on, books give you life,” Remus nearly whispered, looking down at her and clearly seeing the hungry look on her face.  _ “Tempus,” _ he cast, then said, “You have seven minutes till 8:00.”

Elodie pulled herself off of his arm with as much dignity as she could manage, and said, “You are going to teach me that spell, right?”

“I’d be happy to,” Remus agreed. 

He walked over to his window and leaned his back against the wall beside it, watching her. Elodie was conscious of his scrutiny as she looked at the books in his collection, running her fingers across some of the titles. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her that was so horrible that she didn’t even fully allow herself to process it before she just burst right out with it.

“You have more than this, right? You don’t have to travel with everything you own?”

Remus’s silence was deafening.

Elodie felt like she was walking on knives as she moved from the bookcase to his side, the slicing pain a physical manifestation of too much regret and adrenaline having an adverse reaction to each other.

“That was an  _ asshole _ thing for me to say, and I need to go stir the Wolfsbane. All I can say is I know how much you love books, and thinking you had to pare them down was so horrible I just…” She reached out toward him without looking up, curling her fingers into her palm to stop herself from touching him. “I’m sorry, Remus.”

Then, she ran from the room, expecting to hear the twin sounds of a door slamming and the spelled potion alarm sounding at any moment.

 

8888888888888888

 

> Elodie,
> 
> I wasn’t angry. I have a storage space full of books. I miss them, and seeing you look at what I do have made me miss them more. That’s why I didn’t say anything before you left in a rush.
> 
> Forgive me?
> 
> Remus


	12. Hard and Soft Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie has some serious conversations, and heads to Diagon Alley with Remus to get furnishings for their new home. Who knew three three months ago that she would be deciding whether or not to buy curtains for Sirius Black?

 

After getting Remus’s Owl first thing, Elodie had felt awful all morning. She felt awful, then felt additionally awful because she knew Remus had Owled her so she  _ wouldn’t _ feel awful, but she still did anyway, which made her frustrated with herself. She knew she’d have to get over it, too, because it was book chat day  _ and _ the first day of Wolfsbane.

The dining room of Hollyfield was decorated with pennants for the Irish Quidditch team when she came in for lunch. Loria called her over, and Elodie went to sit with her while still looking around every so often to make sure she hadn’t snubbed Remus.

“He ate already,” Loria told her. Elodie looked over at her with wide eyes. “He was leaving when I came in. I’m sure he won’t be upset with you,” the pregnant witch told her comfortingly. 

“Oh, that’s not it,” Elodie told her, burying her face in a hand. “I didn’t realize I was being so obvious, for one thing. For another…”

“You’re not together?” Loria guessed.

Elodie shook her head.

“Oh, well. That’s just a matter of time,” Loria said.

“I wouldn’t want to give that impression, though. He’s… reticent, that’s probably a apt word for it,” Elodie confided, shocked at Loria’s blasé acceptance of the idea. “As much as I respect and admire him, I think he’d resist anything termed inevitable.”

“Ahh. I don’t know if that’s better than resisting  _ after _ it was inevitable,” Loria said with a frown, patting her pregnant belly.

“I’m so sorry,” Elodie murmured.

“Me, too,” Loria said, her regret tinged with a wide swathe of bitterness. “Babies have a permanence about them that tends to bring out a man’s terror.”

That conversation stuck with Elodie, even after she and Loria had shifted to more pleasant subjects and bade each other a good day after lunch. Remus had, in the books, abandoned Tonks while she was pregnant, going to Hermione, Ron, and Harry to beg them to let him fight on the front lines. Elodie had read that and was horrified, feeling at the time that the characterization was flawed in the extreme. Now, faced with a chance to re-evaluate, she didn’t know that she even wanted to think about it. Her obsessive mind didn’t want to let go, though.

She was still hung up on the problem while she she was trying to read, even while she sat next to the man himself.

“If that book isn’t holding your attention, I’d be happy to offer one of my meager supply,” Remus whispered to her, as they sat in the courtyard. The weather today was lovely, and so many residents were also outdoors that Elodie and Remus were sitting together on a bench in the shade. Thus it was that when Remus said this, they were sitting close enough that their sides touched when she turned to look up at him in horror.

He held her gaze for long enough that she could detect the mischief lurking in his eyes.

“Good letter from Sirius, then?” she said at length, turning back to her book. 

She could feel Remus’s body shake with his silent laughter.

“Yes, he says he put down a deposit and three months’ rent, and we’ll be able to move in after the 5th of September,” he told her, once he’d stopped laughing.

“So you’ll have one more full moon here, and a month of time to prepare the house for the next one, then?” she asked in a quiet voice, mindful of outside ears.

“Is that a safe time period for the potions?” he asked, nodding his assent to her own question.

“It honestly couldn’t be more perfect,” she told him.

“Then it’s time to tell Winnifred thank you for her hospitality, and tell her we’ll be out by--what day, do you think? Not the 1st,” Remus said. “I’d like to make sure we have a good, solid place set up before we move.”

“You’re right, we should stay here until after the full moon,” she agreed. The full moon this month was on the fifth of September. “Maybe the eighth? And we can each tell her separately, if that would make you feel better,” Elodie said, biting her lip and looking down.

“I’m not ashamed of being friends with you, Elodie, I just think your reputation doesn’t need--”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ finish that sentence, Remus John Lupin,” Elodie said angrily. “There’s self-preservation, and then there’s self disgust, and your inclination is clearly toward the latter, and it’s awful.”

“You yourself could use more of the former.” His voice was angry as well, but in his own restrained way, unlike her more explosive temperament. They sat for minutes afterwards, silent and fuming, until he added, with a mild curiosity that held no other emotion to it, “How did you know my middle name?”

“I guessed. I saw a J on your luggage,” Elodie bluffed. “I figured if I was wrong, that would distract you from being angry.”

“Thank you for always pushing back, even when I don’t appreciate it,” he said softly.

Elodie looked up at him in surprise. Without stopping herself, she said, “...really?” Of all the ways she could have said the word, this gentle surprise was the least confrontational.

“Reluctantly, yes. I tried to push away my friends in Hogwarts when they found out. Thus began many years of arguments about danger and reputation.” Remus stretched his legs out in front of him and laughed wryly. “None of you can convince me, but I appreciate the trying.”

That he had lumped Elodie in with those other friends was really meaningful to her, and to some extent disproved his whole reason for arguing in the first place, in her opinion.

“You’re welcome. I doubt I’m presuming much when I say you haven’t been able to persuade any of us, but if it makes you feel better, you can keep trying. Within reason, of course,” Elodie said, adopting a tone of maternal condescension. “So, moving on--we’re going to need household supplies. Any suggestions?”

“Suggestions?” Remus seemed to be having difficulty shifting gears so quickly, not that she blamed him.

“Well, if we wait too long to acquire things like towels, dishes, and  _ furniture _ , I’m afraid our housemate will take it upon himself to go steal them like a cat bringing dead mice to their owner as a favor, and I’d rather avoid that, wouldn’t you?”

Remus laughed so hard he nearly snorted. “I can picture him dragging an armchair along that path and getting downright furious at our looks of horror,” he said, still shaking. Then, in a half whisper, he said, “With the two cauldrons, does that mean you’re free to go wherever you wish?”

“Yes, I am,” Elodie confirmed.

“Then I think it’s time you came with me to Diagon.”

 

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Elodie and Remus planned their trip for that next Thursday, as the furor following the Quidditch World Cup would be something neither of them looked forward to dealing with today. As the evening approached and the excitement at Hollyfield got more intense, Elodie herself retreated to her room. Unusually for her, she cast silencing charms and a Do Not Disturb ward that she’d found studying wards during book chat. It would cause a person about to knock on her door to suddenly realize there was a very good reason not to, and walk away before they thought about what the reason could have been. She cast it without any word to Remus, because she just could not stomach the idea of seeing him enthusiastic about the World Cup without knowing what would happen afterward.

Because something would happen afterward. Her memories weren’t great about what had specifically happened; she didn’t recall if anyone was truly hurt other than destruction of property, and maybe some Muggles had needed some stronger than normal memory charms. But the Dark Mark hanging over a celebratory wasteland--that she could picture easily. That it hadn’t happened yet and she hadn’t done anything to prevent it also weighed on Elodie.

So that was how it was that she came to be lying on her bed in the dark, holding her conjured bracelet in her hands and running her fingertips across all of the charms. Every time she came to the eye, she felt horribly guilty. Alastor Moody had never been one of her favorite characters--in a world full of rich, varied characters peppered with comic relief or comedic bad guys, she’d always seen Moody as more of the former. A man out of place, a caricature of himself, whose catchphrase ‘Constant Vigilance’ had been ignored to the point where no one had recognized the difference between the wizard who parroted the phrase and the Death Eater who used Polyjuice to steal his identity.

Some time in the next few days, she knew he would be kidnapped.

On Elodie’s desk was a letter to Albus she’d started writing, earlier. In it, she expressed deep concern about the events after the World Cup. She asked to speak to him soon, reminding him that his very first letter to her had been implying that something was going on, something he wanted her to know about. Now, as she lay on the bed and felt a silent tear slide past her cheekbone into her ear, she held Alastor Moody’s charm up to the moonlight.

Elodie got up and added a line to Albus’s note.

 

> I want to meet with you tomorrow to talk about this. Let me know if that’s possible?
> 
> Love,
> 
> Elodie

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“Good afternoon, Elodie,” Albus told her as she stepped from his Floo, tripping over her own feet and landing in a pile in front of him.

“It’s always good to see you, thanks for letting me come today,” she said, taking his proffered hand and using it to regain her footing. “I know I probably seemed frantic--”

“Yours was hardly the only frantic Owl I have received in the past twelve hours, my dear,” he told her.

“Oh! But then why--”

“Yours seemed one of the the most logical, to be honest. Come, please sit?” Albus gestured to an alcove in his office, one filled with bookshelves, a portrait of a former headmaster, and two very comfortable looking chairs. 

As she walked over to the alcove, Elodie reviewed her options again. She’d rejected the idea of purporting to have some sort of Second Sight, but that didn’t mean she had to completely reject telling Albus at least  _ something _ useful. Elodie’s favorite choice was a softer option, a kind of second reality she’d lived in her Muggle memories, like what she’d mentioned to Remus on the grand staircase.

“You’re quite troubled,” Albus noted. “I’ve spoken to five others today, all very worried, all in their own ways, but you--” he tipped his head sideways and looked at her quizzically. “You are the only one who weren’t even there, yet you seem the most upset.

“I feel like I’m living some strange, alternative life, and even voicing a description of it might make it implode, or something,” she confessed. “How about we agree that if this is too fantastical, we could, I don’t know--maybe pretend my dreams are frighteningly realistic, and leave it at that?”

“How about we agree that you’ll just get on with it?” a voice above them chided, and Elodie looked up in shock to make eye contact with the man inhabiting the portrait frame hung above them. “Oh please don’t tell me she’s a Muggle-born. The look on her face gives me little hope, Albus.”

Before Albus could respond, Elodie stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, it’s  _ you. _ Phineaus Nigellus Black, am I right?” The heavily bearded man in period clothing nodded imperiously, clearly choosing to ignore her initial greeting.

“Elodie was cursed to live as a Muggle for fifteen years, Phineaus. As such, her opinions are probably not to your liking. You’ll probably want to run along,” Albus said. He’d gotten up to stand beside her, and he didn’t sound very happy to have been interrupted.

“Oh carry on then, I’m bored already,” Black said, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. Elodie suspected he wasn’t planning on ignoring them in the slightest.

“Occupational hazard, as the Muggles say,” Albus told her, pointedly looking away from the portrait of Black. “You were saying you feel an unreality to your worries,” he prompted her, gesturing for her to sit down as he himself sat.

“Did I tell you what I told Remus when I was here last? I feel almost like I must have read a copy of Hogwarts, A History before the curse struck,” Elodie said, mentally shrugging on the mantle of her own characterization. 

After nearly three months in this universe, her current life was starting to seem far more real in her memories than the years she’d spent living in her own. What that said about her life before, and what that said about her life  _ now, _ she wasn’t ready to examine, at least not here in Albus Dumbledore’s office.

“Those Muggle years... I spent them enjoying what felt like a fictional universe.  _ This _ fictional universe. And a lot of what I read in those books has faded in the light of the reality I’m living in now, but one thing I firmly remember is the threat of Death Eaters that rose after the Quidditch World Cup.”

A pang of guilt struck her, hard. She could be fucking up  _ everything _ she held most dear about this world, while at the same time saving  _ nobody. _ Yet, she felt she absolutely  _ must  _ try.

“Your hesitation shows one of two things,” Albus remarked, popping a piece of candy in his mouth. “You either have great qualms about changing things from the way they went in your beloved fictional world, or you are regretting telling me such nonsensical things, for fear that I will think you are quite mad.”

Elodie looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide.

“The truth is, Elodie, it  _ is _ quite mad. Which is why I completely believe you.”

“You _ \--really?!” _

“Looking at this rationally, the world I live in involves magic, prophecy, and enchanted pieces of wood that grown adults wave in set patterns to make things appear in midair. I would hardly be a rational person if I didn’t agree that this meant some unusual things could be possible,” Dumbledore told her, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Suddenly, Elodie burst into laughter so hard that it shook her whole body. Tears streamed down her face with the force of it, and when she’d finally hiccupped herself quiet again, and wiped her face with her sleeve enough to nearly soak the cuff, she tried to explain herself to the wizard who had sat patiently with her during her outburst.

“You  _ would!” _ she said, shaking her head. “I mean, of all the people to think I’m not crazy, it would be you, wouldn’t it? This is just insane.”

“I’m sorry to have to turn the conversation from the humorous to the grim, Elodie, but I should remind you why you came.”

“You’re right. Well, first off, I’m not going to tell you everything. I don’t think I should, and what’s more, my memory isn’t perfect anway. So far, what’s happened could still have happened, even with me here,” she told him bluntly. “But the Dark Mark over the tents at the match? That’s just the beginning. Ignoring it as a fluke, as a stunt--that’s not going to work. Peter Pettigrew didn’t just go hide somewhere in shame, Albus. I don’t know where he went, but wherever it is, whatever’s left of Lord Voldemort is there.”

Elodie’s hands ached, and she looked down to see that she’d clasped them together so tight that they were white with the strain. She looked up at the portrait of Sirius Black’s ancestor, and saw that his eyes were shut, but barely. Elodie wondered if Regulus Black was still at Grimmauld Place, and if he was, would he have been one of the robed and masked Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup grounds?

Albus had stood up and crossed his arms, looking up at the ceiling. He looked uneasy. “You’re right, I saw this as a stunt, despite how upset Arthur Weasley was, despite Diggory’s concerns. I feel-- _ felt, _ that the anonymity of the masks and the chaos of the riot had caused a few disgruntled people to relive their glory days.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Elodie objected, “They were very organized. They seemed to know how to bunch up, to keep the Ministry officials from getting close enough to rescue the Muggles. The number of them that there were--”

Dumbledore looked over at her, clearly shocked. “You really  _ do _ have some sort of preternatural memory of this.”

Elodie shook her head. “I have a  _ Daily Prophet _ subscription. Though, it should be said, Rita Skeeter is, I’m sorry to say, a suppurating  _ scab _ on the face of journalism.”

_ And an unregistered Animagus, just for the record, even if I just say it in my own head, _ Elodie said to herself.

“I’ll be honest, Albus. I hadn’t planned to say anything. But the truth is, I lay in bed last night knowing there might be a riot. I could have made money betting on Ireland winning, with Krum catching the Snitch--because I remembered that, too. But all I want to do is keep the people I love safe. I want to keep those bad things from happening, if I can.” Elodie sighed, and stood up. “I really should have made that bet. I could have given the money to Remus, he needs it.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“The fact that you didn’t tells me a lot about what you think is important, Elodie. Don’t discount that.”

“It’s just--I mean, I don’t know  _ everything. _ But what I  _ do  _ know is only as helpful as long as things don’t demonstrably  _ change,” _ Elodie said. “But I sound like I’m trying to act as some sort of Cassandra, and I’m not. I don’t want you to look at me as one, either. I don’t want to speak some sort of mysterious truth and then have powerful people jump to prevent things.” Elodie looked down, then over at the fireplace with its pot of Floo Powder sitting nearby. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elodie, look at me,” Albus said. He didn’t move closer to her, and she was grateful. She felt incredibly fragile and skittish, as though she’d made an irrevocable mistake. “Think about what you’ve told me: the show of anti-Muggle hatred last night was organized. Well, that’s provable, without your confirmation, isn’t it?” Without looking up, Elodie nodded. “You also said that Peter Pettigrew, the betrayer of James and Lily Potter to Lord Voldemort, probably went looking for his old master. That’s not a stretch, is it?”

Elodie felt the vice grip of regret around her heart lessen, as though the hand that was squeezing it had weakened. “Not really, no,” she admitted.

“You said that I was planning to set aside my own worries, and those of the other wizards who have spoken to me today before you have. You were right. You said it was a mistake, and  _ that _ is something I would have undoubtedly found out at some point, is it not?” Albus asked her. This time, she was able to make eye contact with him.

“Yes.”

“So the most outrageous thing you’ve really said to me today was that you could have predicted unusual the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup score, a match that has already occurred. Do you think there might be at least one inebriated witch or wizard who made that claim somewhere in the world, in the hours since it ended?”

Elodie snorted. “Yes.”

“So, say I take you at face value, here,” Albus said, finally coming over to her. He didn’t reach out, however. “You feel you know things, helpful and harmful things. You’ve said you trust me. I trust  _ you. _ ”

“Thank you,” Elodie said simply. “Can we keep this between us? I want to help, want to be a--a  _ resource, _ but what I remember is from just one small aspect of my Muggle life,” she told Dumbledore hesitantly. Even as much as she loved the books,  _ knew _ the books, her memory wasn’t infallible.  _ Prisoner of Azkaban _ was her favorite, and it had been easy to remember the details.  _ Goblet of Fire _ was harder to remember, as it was book 4, and she’d most recently been reading book 7.

Dumbledore hadn’t spoken, but he was watching her face. “Elodie, I say this with great respect, but: you are not the only resource I have. Please don’t put yourself in a position to feel that responsibility.”

Elodie facepalmed. “How melodramatic can I get?”

“Your insights, whenever you feel you can share them, will be most appreciated,” Albus told her, stepping closer. “How about we make an agreement?”

Elodie bit her lip. “Maybe?”

“Good answer,” Albus said, nodding approvingly. “Before James and Lily died, before Harry  _ survived, _ I was the leader of a group called the Order of the Phoenix. The fight against the Death Eaters and their ilk was  _ ours _ before it was the Ministry’s fight. I think it’s time that the Order returns, if in a very abbreviated way, at first.” Albus reached his hand out to her. It felt and looked symbolic. “Just those of us who are involved, at the moment: Arthur and Molly. You and Remus. Sirius.”

Elodie didn’t hear Alastor Moody’s name in the list. His rescue might be possible without his having to suffer in that trunk for an entire year of school--but it wouldn’t be, if Barty Crouch, Jr. was brought into the Order fold. She was pretty sure that in the books she’d read, the Order of the Phoenix as observed by Harry Potter hadn’t been revived until the end of book 4. Harry might not have known that a few members had started meeting early, though. She could be changing things, or she herself just did not figure highly enough in any of the events to show up in the books. Either way, Elodie wouldn’t be passive. She’d work to save Moody, if she could. She’d work to save Cedric, if she could. She’d work to save  _ Sirius. _

Elodie grasped Albus’s hand and squeezed it, with all of her might.

8888888888888888

Even though she’d told herself she wasn’t entitled to know what Remus was up to, and she’d spent the day distressed about the riot after the World Cup, when Elodie returned through the Floo from Albus’s office, she really wished she knew where he was. Remus had become the touchstone through which she oriented herself, when things went wrong, and perhaps  _ that _ more than anything else showed her just how important to her he had become.

So that was how she had rationalized to herself that it wasn’t wildly inappropriate for her to be standing outside his room, about to knock, when Remus opened it and nearly walked right into her.

“Err… hello,” he said, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders, probably to keep her from falling over.

“Hi, I didn’t mean to be just, I don’t know, standing out here,” Elodie said quickly. “I was about to knock, I promise. I just visited Albus, and I wanted to talk to you about it, but then I hadn’t seen you all day, and I--”

“Breathe, Elodie. Breathe,” Remus interrupted, his voice threaded through with amusement. When she glared at him, affronted, he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, you are just the picture of righteous indignation, but instead of being angry at  _ me _ for nearly knocking you down, you’re clearly upset at yourself somehow, and I just…” Remus cleared his throat and stepped back. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh!” Elodie said, surprised. She’d expected to knock, and they’d take a walk, or something. “All right.”

Remus’s laughter and his spellcasting the lights to be brighter in his room chased away all of her anxiety, despite herself. They walked in, and Remus busied himself with two chairs, casting a spell to shut the door as almost an afterthought. Elodie rubbed one hand along the edge of her shirt sleeve, thinking as she did so that there was something very sexy about the casual way Remus used magic. That kind of effortless power was very attractive to her.

“There, almost presentable,” Remus said, sweeping his arm out to show her what he’d done. The two chairs looked comfortable, and they faced the view from Remus’s window, out into the woods, unlike Elodie’s view of the courtyard and perimeter fence.

“Thank you,” Elodie said, trying to inject as much warmth into her voice as she could. As she walked over to sit, she saw that there were some additional trunks against the wall that she hadn’t noticed the last time he’d Apparated her into his room.

Remus followed her gaze as he himself sat. “I’ve spent the day gathering some belongings. Those are both full of books, but I have to ask you to wait to look at them,” he added apologetically. “The older of the two trunks hasn’t been gone through in, hmm. Probably at least eleven years.”

“I’m excited at the idea of having at least one room lined with bookshelves, even if they’re all obscure magical theory books I’d never read in a million years,” Elodie told him.

“They’re not, I’m sure you’ll love them, and you’ll be welcome to read them,” Remus said. His expression was open and, she thought to herself, affectionate. 

“Forgive me if I am mentally jumping up and down in glee,” Elodie said, trying to explain the way she could feel herself practically glowing in delight. “I didn’t come to figuratively drool all over your book collection, I promise.”

“True, you mentioned seeing Albus.” His expression tightened, and he said, “You heard about--or read about--the riot last night, then?”

“I did. I think it’s a serious issue, and I thought he should be worried.”

An edge of defensiveness or maybe resignation showed on Remus’s face as he asked, “Was he?”

“I’m happy to tell you that yes, he was. He wants to--” Elodie broke off, feeling like it wasn’t really her place to insert herself into any of this, especially not the place of telling an Order member that they were going to be meeting again, but she shook off her self-doubt as best she could. “He told me there was a group of you, last time. He doesn’t want to bring everyone back in, but--”

“The Order.” Remus sighed, and the weight of having to live with everything that had weighed him down over the past decade and more seemed to just… settle back on top of him. “It’s a good idea. Who, then?”

“Oh, Remus. All of the light has just gone out of your face,” Elodie blurted out.

Remus blinked at her, then his cheeks reddened a bit. “Has it? The whole lot of us kind of fell away from each other after James and Lily… there were celebrations and fireworks and…”

“You were rightfully heartbroken,” Elodie said. “Well, Albus says that for now, he’d like to talk to the Weasleys, you, Sirius, and--and me.” Elodie bit the inside of her lip and waited for his surprise. None came.

“That’s... manageable, actually. It’ll give Sirius something productive to focus on, too.” Remus looked at her, and she could see he’d taken some reassurance from somewhere. He looked less downtrodden, now. “When?”

“He didn’t say, but Hogwarts starts on, what? The first? So before then, I imagine.”

“I’ll hold off on Owling Sirius until there’s a specific time, because he can’t afford to send tropical birds to Hollyfield three times a day, but that wouldn’t stop him,” Remus said. “I wish I knew what was with that.”

Elodie had been in the process of getting up, because it was almost time for dinner. “Oh!” she said, surprised. “It’s so Harry thinks he’s in the tropics somewhere, I think?” The impact of what that meant, for how Sirius was thinking about Harry’s wellbeing, and how much it cost to do so--it showed on Remus’s face as a kind of stunned distress. “See you at dinner?” Elodie asked, deciding to let Remus process what he’d just learned (both about the Order and about Sirius’s birds) by himself.

“Wait--would you,” Remus stood and gestured at the chair Elodie had just been sitting in. “Would you sit back down? I have been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Elodie sat, but she didn’t trust herself to say anything. Was this the long-deferred conversation about her penalty spell? Was he going to ask her not to participate in the Order of the Phoenix for some reason? His facial expression told her that this was a serious conversation.

“You needn’t look worried,” he said to her. “I wanted to thank you. It was an act of genuine caring and self-sacrifice to cast a spell to speed up your brew of Wolfsbane for someone you had just met.”

“Oh,” Elodie said. She felt like she didn’t deserve the level of gratitude he was showing. After all, she might have just met him at the time, but she’d  _ known _ him for what had felt like forever. Before she had to come up with a response, though, Remus spoke again.

“I’m saying that first, because I also need you to understand that while I’m grateful for what you did, I need you to promise me, now that we’re friends, that you won’t do it again. Even if something goes wrong, even if I’ve had a bad week.” He leaned over in his chair and looked down, rubbing his hand over his face. “I admit that I had been absolutely dreading the full moon that first month. To find out at almost the last minute that there was Wolfsbane for me was…” Remus looked up at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’ll never forget that.” He looked down again. “But I go through this every single month. You don’t have that many ‘two years’ to give, and I can’t permit--” he stopped, took a deep breath, and sat up. “I’m  _ asking _ you to please come to me, instead, if you feel like--”

He seemed to be searching for the best way to express his request, and Elodie couldn’t let him struggle any further now that she could tell what he was trying to say.

“Remus?” she said as gently as she possibly could. She didn’t want him to mishear anything in her tone of voice. He looked up at her and she said, “I completely hear you on this. I won’t do it again.” 

Despite everything inside her that made her want to quantify her understanding for him by explaining, with examples, how she wouldn’t force him to feel responsible for a decision like that ever again, Elodie kept her answer brief and meaningful. Their eyes met again, and she broke her promise to herself in just one respect.

“I’m not sorry I did it, though.”

Remus laughed, and the tension lines she’d watched form on his face during that conversation melted away with his accompanying smile. “Ellie, truthfully? Neither am I.”  
  


8888888888888888

In a flurry of Owls (Elodie had told Dumbledore to please just Owl Remus, as he could pass messages along, when both of them had received messages at breakfast the day after her meeting) over the next few days, the plans to convene the first mini meeting of the Order of the Phoenix came into being. They were to meet Sunday evening after dinner, at the Weasley’s house. Arthur had been frantically busy at the Ministry all that week since the riot, and he’d missed dinner most nights, so Molly decided it would be better to meet afterwards. This suited Elodie and Remus just fine, as this was well into his Wolfsbane week, and drinking the potion before dinner wouldn’t do much to compliment Molly’s cooking. Because the Weasleys weren’t yet in on Sirius’s innocence and current whereabouts, he wouldn’t be at the meeting, so they didn’t have to worry about trying to smuggle him into a place with a Floo this week. By the time they’d all meet again, Elodie was sure her own house would have a connected Floo, and Sirius would be much safer.

That had led to different plans to make; with the house rental a done deal and Remus almost done with his task of collecting his belongings from wherever he’d stashed them across the country, it was time to think about buying the other things they’d need. Elodie had spoken to Albus about something she looked forward to surprising both Remus and Sirius with, for the living room, and at the same time, Albus had assured Elodie that once Molly heard that they’d be needing supplies, she’d probably gather up some things like towels and bed linens. That left three beds, various kitchen appliances (though some were provided with the rental, which she was pleased about), and other small things like rugs, curtains, hangers, lamps, and other household objects.

On Thursday, then, Elodie found herself standing in front of Mellie’s wardrobe, a pile of discarded outfits on the bed behind her.

“This is  _ stupid,” _ she complained. She tried to remind herself she wasn’t going on a date, this wasn’t a fancy occasion, she was going out to buy household items, for goodness’ sake! Everything she picked up to wear seemed wrong, though. She’d rejected skirts, in case she ended up needing to pick up an end of some kind of furniture, to help carry it. That left the pants--or  _ trousers, _ as they called underpants ‘pants’ here in the UK, and  _ that  _ kind of grammar mistake would be mortifying in the extreme. Elodie had rejected three pairs as too light in case of stains before her eye fell on the section of skirts she’d relegated to the back of the wardrobe.

“Levitation spells. I’m a witch, and I can cast levitation spells,” she said. 

Facepalming, Elodie grabbed a blue skirt with an ivy pattern that grew from the hem up along her legs, and a green shirt with ivy lace embellishments and put them on as fast as she could. She didn’t want to have to explain that she was late to Remus, what would she say?

With Remus, though, truth was almost always the best option.

“Sorry I’m late. I literally forgot I could use magic to levitate heavy things, and I didn’t want to wear a skirt in case it caught on an edge or something. Ugh! Have I mentioned how ridiculous those Muggle memories make me look, sometimes?” Elodie told Remus as she rushed down the Hollyfield staircase to meet him at the Floo. 

“That’s a unique enough reason that I forgive you for the five minutes I stood here alone and abandoned,” Remus teased her. “Do you miss your Muggle life sometimes?” he asked, right before they tossed their Floo powder in turn.

“Not anymore,” she told him, grinning as she hopped into the fireplace first.

Elodie did  _ not _ fall down, and Remus did  _ not _ land as gracefully as he’d once led her to believe. When she spun out, there was a column nearby for her to catch, almost certainly put there for the witches and wizards who were unsteady when they arrived. She’d just caught her breath when Remus appeared, and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow to help him balance.

“Thank you,” he said, but he disentangled himself as soon as he saw that there were other people who could see them. Elodie didn’t quite hear the next thing he said, though, because she was standing in the actual Leaky Cauldron, and just outside the door was the actual Diagon Alley.

It hadn’t yet been a week since the Quidditch World Cup, and so there were remnants of pennants and other things that showed support for the Irish team, celebrating their win. Underneath that sort of typical trimming that Elodie could recognize, team spirit, there was an otherworldliness that was completely riveting. Elodie walked out of the door of the Leaky Cauldron and just  _ stared. _

Witches and wizards wearing all manner of clothing from full-on wizarding robes with feathers and fur accents mingled with more casual wear of t-shirts and jeans, skirts and halter tops. The weather was warm and sunny, and Elodie could see that the magical population of London were out in full force, their hands full of bags or food, with other bags and purchased objects floating around them.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” Remus’s voice murmured in her ear, and she jumped in surprise before looking over at him, wide-eyed. “‘Have you ever been to Diagon Alley before,’ was the question,” he told her, smiling.

“Err, nope,” she said, dragging out the word in as American a way as possible. “I have zero idea what to do, but whatever I pick, I’m sure I’ll love it,” she added.

“You will.”

Remus first took her to a place called Hellene’s Household, which was full of the same sorts of things one would find in a Bed, Bath, and Beyond sort of store at home. The exception was a corner of the store that looked like it sold gift cards, but it turned out to be licenses for single-use, complex spells for the household. Elodie was completely fascinated, but the salesman had called her Remus’s wife twice, and she could tell Remus was massively uncomfortable.

“Usually, to use a spell, you need to understand exactly what it’s trying to do, or the spell will fail. That’s why Unforgivables are so terrible,” Remus explained at a whisper. 

“I’ll look into them another time, it’s fine,” she assured him, noting the frustration in Remus’s demeanor, and the way he kept his body between her and the pushy salesman. She manifestly did  _ not _ tell Remus that his body language was far more telling of a possible relationship than anything else, because it was the first day of his full moon week, after all.

Elodie picked out curtains for the kitchen, bedroom, living room, bathroom, and entryway to the house, as well as luxury towels (for Sirius, she’d told Remus, then grabbed enough for everyone to have two), two rugs, tea towels, washcloths, a tablecloth (“It’s a good thing impervious charms exist, if you’re buying that,” Remus had remarked. She figured he thought he was joking about Sirius, but she’d seen Remus eat soup at least once before), and a huge soft rug for the middle of the living room floor, in Gryffindor colors. She’d loved it as soon as she’d seen it, but when she saw Remus’s face, she’d asked him to levitate it to the front counter for her, as they’d found everything they’d needed. His soft look of happiness was more than enough to make up for the ridiculous markup they’d been charged, she thought.

As they were leaving the store, the large bag she carried full of their miniaturized purchases, Remus stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait. You didn’t get enough curtains, I think.”

Elodie was kind of impressed that he’d known that, to be honest. “I don’t think Sirius will want curtains for his bedroom,” she said to Remus. “Do you?”

“No, you’re right, we can do without curtains in there,” he grinned at her. “You might want  _ shutters _ on the outside, though.”

“So mean!” Elodie told him. “Where next?”

“Beds? Furnishings For Forever has a profoundly annoying name, but a good reputation,” Remus suggested. Elodie nodded.

They bickered a bit, once inside. Elodie had been adamant that Remus deserved an extra long bed, while he’d argued that he could always cast an extending charm, despite the fact that it would possibly damage the structural integrity of the bed if used long-term. The addition of a salesman in this store was enough to get Remus to actually capitulate, but only because the man had insisted that Elodie should try the bed, because ‘someday is a long time,’ which she supposed was meant to imply an inevitable relationship between them.

Remus was still self-immolating over this when Elodie picked out a king sized bed for Sirius, because she wanted him to be able to loll all over it in whatever ridiculous fashion he pleased, and a single, narrow bed for herself because she had her own plans for where to put it. It was a testament to how upset Remus was about the salesman’s assumptions that he didn’t even really notice what Elodie had bought for everyone else, so she decided to be grateful.

Practical, too, as she’d bought a chocolate bar at Hellene’s.

“Eat this,” Elodie said to Remus when they were half a block away from the furniture store. She handed Remus two squares of the chocolate.

“I-- Thank you.”

“I can keep everything in my room until we do move in, the charm to keep them miniature is one of the longer-lasting ones, at three weeks,” Elodie told Remus as they neared the Leaky.

“Your no-nonsense attitude is very effective, Ellie,” Remus said, stopping in front of the book shop. “I’m pretty sure you picked out a few things I’d have objected to, but I won’t know until we move in.”

“Oh?” Elodie said, turning away from him to look in the bookshop window. “Ooh, I need to grab a few things. I’m woefully undereducated.”

“I’m actually--” Remus said, but Elodie didn’t hear the rest, because the siren song of the bookstore was too loud. That, and she was half sure that Remus was going to rebuke her for taking charge like that, and she didn’t want to hear it, not today.

A half hour later, Elodie was handed her purchases before she’d had a chance to pay for them, and Remus was looking unbearably smug.

“I--” she started, but Remus interrupted her.

“--have been out maneuvered,” he finished for her. “I wasn’t upset, you know. I just wanted you to know I  _ noticed _ you steamrolling through every household purchase as though you were afraid I’d offer to pay for something.”

“Shit.”

“I am not sure you realized that this puts me in an uncomfortable position, as I intend to  _ share _ the house, not freeload off of the house,” Remus continued.

“No, no--I totally did not intend to do that. I mean, on some level I  _ did, _ but not for everything. I know you probably don’t have as much in savings, and Albus was able to claim a sum from Francis’s estate that compensated me not only for the year he kept me from leaving, but a chunk to make the first years more competitive, so…”

Elodie’s voice faltered, but she felt like she had to explain herself to Remus, whose good opinion was basically the most important thing in the world to her.

“I already felt like taking the money was iffy, so when I realized I could spend it on the household stuff, I just, yeah, kind of steamrolled through like you said, because if I slowed down I might think about where I got it from, and--Remus? I’m sorry.”

He looked down at her, a curious expression on his face. “So it wasn’t about forcing charity?”

_ “No, _ I promise. Or if it was, it was  _ me _ accepting  _ Albus’s _ charity, sort of?”

“All right.”

The deep, relieved sigh that Remus made on hearing what she said told her that this wasn’t the last conversation they were going to have on the subject, but at least this one had ended well.


	13. A Surreal Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to meet Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny makes for a very surreal Sunday evening.
> 
> I honestly just want to hug this chapter so hard!

Sunday evening came sooner than Elodie expected. Part of this was because she’d been spending a great deal of time studying household spells--through at least three book chats, which Remus would not stop teasing her about--and part of this was because she was, as usual, limiting her time spent with Remus during the full moon week. She felt that she was attuned enough to his moods to know whether he found this hurtful, and didn’t seem to, but the last thing she wanted to do was imply she found him sexy and remembered what it was like to kiss him during the week before they moved into a house together.

And boy, did she remember. She knew that memories were reinforced by going back over them, but sometimes, she couldn’t help herself. The moment when he’d told her he was never going to let her go was enshrined in her memory by now, with neon signs and confetti, the whole nine yards. His confidence, the way he’d touched her without shying away, joyfully… sometimes she ached to make those moments a reality. But her reality was far too complicated, fraught with the twin pitfalls of his feelings of low self worth and her solid knowledge of the way he would eventually, someday, initially reject the woman he was meant to marry. 

Her biggest worry was that by hopefully saving Moody, saving Cedric, and saving Sirius she was taking away Lupin’s chances at happiness.

That was the point at which Elodie always, unfailingly, turned off her brain in whatever way she could, and thought about Something Else.

“Let’s definitely focus on  _ that, _ right before you meet Molly Weasley for the first time. Wallow in Hormoneville and see how that works out for you,” Elodie told herself. 

It was a hot Sunday evening, and Elodie’s gaze lingered more than once on the white lacy dress she used to throw on for potion stirrings. Her very favorite object in the entire wardrobe was a lacy green shirt, basically a bolero, that would go very nicely with that white dress. It was the most summery outfit she owned, and she looked pretty in it. It was also the dress she’d been wearing she’d met Remus on the stairs on her way to stirring his potion, that day she’d been an utter mess. It could do with a little rehabilitation, she thought.

Lately, Elodie had been trying to wear her emotional insecurities like a shield against things she didn’t want Remus to realize. Today, she decided, she’d wear the white dress, and if he sensed anything under the surface, she’d just point to their encounter and brush it off.

Elodie completed her outfit by braiding her hair to one side and  _ not _ wearing mis-matched shoes. She carefully placed her brush on her nightstand with a sticking charm. Then, she went down to meet Remus in front of the Floo, as they appeared to be doing quite often lately.

“Hello again,” Remus said to her when she made eye contact with him on the stairs. “I wondered if I’d ever see that pretty dress again,” he teased. “Though, white? Through the Floo?” he said, wincing.

“I don’t have sleeves, but I do have tricks to keep in them,” Elodie told him.  _ “Vestis Protego Temporalis!” _ she cast, and a muted blue glow shone from the dress. Then, she picked up the pot of Floo Powder.

“This time, let me go first. I’ll catch you,” Remus said, before throwing in a pinch of the stuff and announcing his destination.

Elodie told her racing heart (Remus had sounded commanding, and she found she loved the way that kind of take-charge attitude looked on him) to settle, and after a few seconds, she tossed in her own Floo Powder, heading off to meet the Weasley family for the first time.

Elodie spun right into Remus’s arms. She didn’t dare look up at him, so she tipped her forehead against his chest and shivered at the feeling of his warm hands on her bare arms. Then, she stepped back, glanced at her hands to see that they were free of ash, and brushed unnecessarily against the skirt of her white dress.

The Burrow had such a deep, lovely feeling of homeyness to it that for a minute, Elodie wondered if the feeling came from one of the spells they’d seen in Hellene’s Household. The room they’d arrived in was tidy but cluttered, in the way that a lived-in space full of love can feel.

“I heard them! Go out, Arthur, and see if it’s Albus or Remus, will you?” a woman’s harried voice sounded, from a room or two away.

“It’s Remus,” Remus called. He looked like he wanted to go straight over to wherever the voice was coming from, but he stopped himself. “I’ll stay here with you, for introductions,” he told her.

“Remus! The children will want to see you, but they’re all looking over something George’s got, I’m sure they’ll be out to see you soon!” The man speaking was taller than she expected, but his bright red hair and ebullient demeanor told her he was definitely Arthur Weasley.

“Arthur, good to see you,” Remus replied, reaching out and sharing a firm, welcoming handshake. He turned to Elodie, and she could tell that he was about to introduce her.

Before he could say anything, though, a shorter red-haired woman brushed past, reaching up to hug Remus.

“Remus! I’m happy to see you looking so well,” Molly said, taking the liberty of straightening the edges of the lightweight vest Remus was wearing over his shirt. “I was worried you wouldn’t eat properly, after Hogwarts.”

Elodie was excited to meet Molly, though apprehensive. Fanfiction authors often looked to Mrs. Weasley as the catalyst for many different aspects of their plots, leaving her as either the cause of conflict, or aiding the resolution of it. Would the real Molly be someone Elodie could become close to, or would she be so motherly and overbearing that Elodie felt like dodging her at every opportunity?

As Remus spoke warmly with Molly and Arthur, he glanced over at her again, this time making a little ‘c’mere’ gesture with his head, and then when she hesitated, he reached out in her direction, drawing attention to her in the process.

“So I should be letting Albus do this, as he met her first, but: Molly, Arthur, this is Elodie Merriman. Elodie, this is Molly and Arthur Weasley,” Remus said, his hand coming up behind her back to hover as he performed the perfect introduction. If it hadn’t been such an important moment to her, Elodie felt she would have totally teased him for it, too.

“It’s so nice to meet you, thank you for hosting this,” Elodie said, reaching out in turn to shake Arthur’s, then Molly’s hands. Just as Arthur was about to speak, the Floo roared to life, and Albus Dumbledore stepped out, immediately casting a cleansing charm to rid himself of the ash of traveling.

“Excuse me,” Arthur said, and Molly smiled and nodded. Remus looked at Elodie and she nodded as well, flushing a bit as she did so with the comparison of a husband seeking his wife’s permission. 

Elodie turned to Molly, and offered her a bright smile. “Just us, then,” she said.

“Honestly that’s probably for the best--Arthur is a dear but he’s very enthusiastic, and when we meet new people, I hardly ever get in a word,” Molly confided, smiling warmly. Elodie couldn’t help her answering grin. “So, your accent--are you American?” Molly asked.

“Yes, from New England,” Elodie answered her. Something in Molly’s expression felt so honest and caring; her demeanor came across as interested beyond simple politeness, and Elodie wanted to tell her more. “It’s actually kind of a wild story. I was studying under a Potions Master--a mentorship, for certification,” she told Molly. “I’d been overdue in taking the qualifying exams for, shall we say,  _ quite _ a long while by the time he brought me to England for a conference. It just so happened that Albus Dumbledore was one of the attendees.” Molly’s eyes had widened at this point, and Elodie could tell she’d understood the nuance of what Elodie was telling her. “Albus helped me.”

“He does that,” Molly said, reaching out and squeezing Elodie’s hand. “So now you’re here, but what about your mentor?”

“Well, now, that’s an even longer story,” Elodie said, almost tearing up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Molly about losing her mother and  _ how _ she’d died, all within five minutes of meeting for the first time. “But the important part is: I’m safe, and I’m free.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Molly said, taking up Elodie’s other hand and holding them both. Then, she shot a look over at her husband and leaned in slightly, asking, “And what about Remus?”

“That’s Albus’s brilliance, there,” Elodie told her, catching the implication from Molly’s expression and choosing to act obtuse about its meaning. “The apprenticeship and certification was in Potions. So that gave me something to do: brew Wolfsbane, which happened to be something Remus needed, and honestly, everyone needs a friend like Remus, so--”

“It’s a very nice feeling to come up on a conversation right as you’re being complimented,” Remus said, walking up to stand beside Elodie. Then he said to Molly, “Albus wanted to speak to the two of you for a minute. Would you like me to send the children upstairs, after I say hello?”

Molly’s face turned from warm greetings to a pinched sort of uncomfortability. “Yes, would you Remus? I will admit I’m a mess when it comes to what happened. I’ve only just today been able to talk to them all without--” she broke off, whipping out a handkerchief from a sleeve and sniffing into it. 

Arthur leaned in to snug his arm around his wife. “There, there, dearest. That’s what Albus and everyone are here for, we’re going to talk it out, all right?” He kissed Molly’s cheek with a gusto and lack of embarrassment that Elodie felt was only truly demonstrated by couples who had been together for many, many years.

“It’s not bedtime for them, I imagine,” Remus hazarded, and Arthur rolled his eyes jovially. 

“Even if it was, they’ll be up and awake tonight, no doubt, with the Express tomorrow. Double wards on all the doors in the sitting room will be in order!”

With that, the elder Weasleys walked into the kitchen, and Elodie heard Molly start to holler about something. One of the twins came rushing out of the doorway only to be called right back through, and a small red haired girl came sneaking out of the very same doorway to walk past Elodie and Remus into a separate room.

“Hello, Ginny,” Remus said to her. “Would you please tell the others it’s time to head upstairs? I’ll come in to say hello first.”

Ginny nodded, smiled, and ran off.

“I’ll lead,” Remus told Elodie. “They’re all lovely, don’t worry.”

As she followed Remus into the sitting room, Elodie realized that she knew some things that she could use to set the young people she would shortly be meeting at ease. As she watched them excitedly speak to Remus about the weeks they’d spent since he had last seen him at Hogwarts, Elodie thought about how she would greet them, once introduced. One thing that she always dreaded about social situations like this wasn’t going to be a problem at all--remembering names. Though of course the four kids in front of her weren’t identical to their movie counterparts, they were still completely recognizable as themselves. More specifically, though, Elodie knew that Harry found it very frustrating when new people he was introduced to fawned on him or practically ignored his companions in favor of trying to gain his attention. She decided she would greet him somewhere in the middle, and try not to imply anything was all that unique about him at all.

The other thing she remembered was about Ron. Ron Weasley was often overlooked, his opinion ignored, maybe even before he’d become best friends with the Boy Who Lived. So she knew she was going to greet him first, very warmly, and perhaps afterwards, ask him about the World Cup, since she knew he loved Quidditch.

“Elodie, can I introduce you?” Remus said, cupping his hand at her elbow without quite touching her. She nodded, and smiled at the four faces turned toward her.

“This is my friend Elodie. Elodie, this is Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Ron.” Remus gestured to each child in turn, and when he was done, he said, “She knows your headmaster, too.”

She smiled at their greetings. “Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, it’s very nice to meet you! Ron and Ginny, I imagine it’s nice to have your friends get to visit at home before you’re all off to school?”

They both nodded.

“I can’t help but notice the Quidditch regalia,” Elodie said to Ron, nodding to the hooks where their coats and scarves and such were all hung. There were many items she recognized as carrying the Irish Quidditch team logo on them. “Do you mind if I ask: were you able to attend the match?” She knew the answer, of course, but that wasn’t really the point of her comment.

Ron’s eyes lit up. “I was! We were really far up, but it was brilliant.”

“Do you think Krum had a tough decision, grabbing the Snitch when Bulgaria was down, like that?” she asked him. Both Ron  _ and _ Remus blinked at her in surprise at the question.

“Do you have all night? ‘Cause that’s what you’ll need if you really want to ask that,” Ginny told her, with the tone of a concerned friend.

“Rain check then, Ron?” Elodie offered. He nodded, elbowing his sister with significant force.

“Hermione, that’s from Shakespeare, isn’t it?” Elodie asked the brown-haired girl. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus tip his head toward Harry and say something quietly. She hoped it was about Sirius.

“Yes, thank you, it is,” Hermione answered politely. 

“I will have to re-read A Winter’s Tale in your honor, then. I sometimes get to sit and read with your former professor, at home,” Elodie said. “He did say he’s missed teaching you all, he definitely enjoyed it.”

“He was the best DADA professor we’ve had,” Hermione told Elodie with an eager sincerity. “He actually knew things, not just teaching by rote from the book, either.”

“That’s generally what distinguishes the good ones from the crap, yeah,” Elodie said. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione laughed along with her.

“Well,” Remus said, walking the few steps back toward the little group they’d formed when he and Harry had walked away to speak in private. “It looks like your parents are about ready for our discussion. It was good to see everyone again.”

Elodie stood back and watched as Remus said something to each child in turn, and they all left looking pleased and happy, Harry most of all.

“Good job remembering everyone’s names,” Remus told her, after they’d watched the four head up the stairs, followed quickly afterwards by Fred and George. 

“I only wish for their sake they were easier forgotten,” Elodie said sadly. “That’s a big burden for a young man.” 

_ “Tempus Ostium!” _ Molly said from behind them. A solid wooden door appeared at the first step of the stairway, with a complete lack of a doorknob.

“That is clearly not the first time you’ve cast that,” Elodie found herself saying. Everyone laughed. 

“I don’t use it often,” Molly said, laughing along with them. “But today, it felt necessary.”

Along with Molly’s physical barrier, Albus and Arthur went around casting a variety of silencing spells and one spell that would warn them if any person other than the five of them came within proximity. Predictably, this alarm went off almost immediately.

“Argh!” Molly fumed. “They think they’re so clever. I can’t yell at them, you see, because we’ve already cast the silencing charms!”

“How long does it take to conjure and send a Howler?” Elodie asked. She hadn’t really meant it, but Molly got a determined look on her face that told her she’d liked Elodie’s idea. She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, during which Arthur and Albus spoke about hiring Alastor Moody for the DADA position at Hogwarts. Then, Molly reappeared through the doorway, walking with purpose toward her conjured door. With a flick of her wand, the door opened and her Howler floated up the stairs, chasing at least three pairs of legs that had been perched just behind the door.

Before she was able to shut the door and thus seal out the noise, Elodie heard the thundering screech of a  _ very _ angry mother.

“Biscuit?” Molly said sweetly, offering Elodie the first pick from a plateful.

“I am in awe,” she told the older witch. “Thank you.”

As Elodie bit into the cookie, she looked around to see that everyone was settling into their places in the room, all except Molly, who was still puttering around offering her plate of treats and picking up trinkets the children had left behind.

“Do sit down, Molly,” Albus finally said, and Molly sat down good-naturedly. Elodie was left with an impression that both Molly and Albus both knew she was waiting him out, hoping to clear away more mess until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and it was a friendly dance between them. “Well, I spoke with some of you in private,” Albus said, “But now it’s time to come together, I believe, to prepare ourselves. Molly, Arthur, there was a development that you should be aware of, regarding Sirius Black.”

Elodie felt a strong surge of annoyance bubble up inside her at the way Albus phrased his introduction. The Weasleys needed to learn about Sirius’s  _ innocence, _ but this made it seem as though there was more to worry over. True to form, Molly’s handkerchief made its appearance, and Elodie took an overlarge bite of her biscuit to prevent herself from speaking up out of turn. When she looked over at Remus to see what his reaction was, she saw that his jaw was set in irritation. He looked over at her before her gaze moved on, and there was a glint of pride in his expression, after observing her unhappiness. They were somewhat of a united front about Sirius, that was for certain.

There was a period of silence, and Remus cleared his throat, shooting an unhappy glance at Albus, who was clearly abdicating the responsibility of sharing the news to him. Then, to Elodie’s surprise, Remus came right out with it: “Sirius is innocent. I was shocked, too, believe me,” he said in response to the gasps from Molly and Arthur. “If I had not seen Peter Pettigrew cowering in fear in front of me, in person, I would have found it impossible to believe.”

Remus went on to explain in sparse but clear detail what had happened the night of the last full moon of Harry’s third year at Hogwarts. How he’d seen Peter’s name on the enchanted map, along with that of Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. How he and Sirius had forced Peter to show himself, and how Harry had persuaded them to wait for justice, rather than become murderers themselves. Her heart ached for him, and she completely forgot how clear those feelings would be for him to discern, as she listened. Remus stood, when it came time to confess his missed Wolfsbane, his transformation and subsequent loss of control, leading to Peter’s escape.

As he offered his deep and abject apologies for his mistake, Remus came to stand behind the couch Elodie and Molly were sitting on. Elodie leaned back to look up at him with as much support and caring as she could for a few seconds, knowing her affection stood plainly on her face but assuming he would see it as platonic. When he was done speaking, Remus put his hands on the back of the couch and leaned over, hanging his head down, almost behind the couch, despite his height.

Except, one hand wasn’t on the couch. It was on her shoulder.

It took everything Elodie had  _ not _ to put her own hand atop his. She knew that would change the gesture, change it in a way that made him ashamed of who and what he was, and what that would mean for her association with him. She didn’t even dare let herself shrug his hand up against her cheek as she’d done once before. She sat there and accepted his gesture, and loved him for it.

Molly was in distress, tears streaming down her face despite Arthur’s comfort, as he’d come to sit beside her on the arm of the couch. “Sirius! Full of life and denied justice, oh!” she managed to say once, but mostly she made sad, sympathetic noises. 

“So, where is he now? Sirius?” Arthur asked.

Instead of responding with an answer, Albus nodded over at Elodie and she supposed at Remus behind her, but he was silent, and she wasn’t going to make him speak right now.

With Remus’s hand burning a permanent mark into her shoulder, Elodie said, “He’s living in a cave right now, I’m not entirely sure where, but--”

Molly’s wail cut off anything she would have thought to add. “There’s got to be somewhere--Albus, at Hogwarts? A hidden room, or--”

“We have it under control, Molly, I promise you,” Albus interrupted with infinite gentleness. Elodie realized that, far from being blind to the ways that Molly Weasley thought and acted, Albus Dumbledore was  _ using  _ them, and cleverly. He’d set up the fake spectre of ‘Sirius Black, fugitive and terror in the night’ at the beginning of their discussion, only to allow Remus to tear that false ghost to shreds with the truth he’d told them. This had left Molly with nothing but compassion and distress, instead of suspicion and fear. Now, Albus was once again shifting the ground under her feet, using Elodie and Remus’s plans to soothe her.

There was a sense of weight coming onto the couch from behind her, and Elodie looked up to see Remus sitting on the back of the couch, his hand  _ still _ resting on her shoulder. She smiled at him, felt the blush creeping up her neckline and onto her ears, and held the smile for as long as she dared.

“Remus? Elodie?” She whipped her head back to face front to find that everyone was looking at them. Predictably, Remus finally moved his hand, but as he did, she pushed her shoulder up so his hand brushed against her cheek even as she opened her mouth to explain their housing plan. Remus  _ could _ have used his werewolf reflexes to pull his hand away more quickly, but he didn’t. Even so, the few seconds of those actions were so brief that she didn’t think anyone had really noticed, especially not as Molly Weasley continued to sniff loudly beside her.

“I’ve rented a house in the middle of nowhere, near to the boarding house we’ve been living, but it’s surrounded by fields,” Elodie told Arthur, Molly, and Albus. “Sirius will live there, and so will myself and Remus.” Elodie twisted her fingers in her lap, as she couldn’t chew on them like she wanted to.

“A house? A new house?” Molly said, dubiously.

“Well, it’s not  _ new, _ I didn’t buy it. I just wanted there to be a place unconnected to either of them, you see,” she felt compelled to point out. “The Floo will be associated with my name, and Remus’s, if he wants it to be,” Elodie looked over her shoulder at Remus, who smiled at her.

“No one will think to look for Sirius there,” Remus added, to Elodie’s great relief. His was such a moral authority that she felt sure there would be less push back, now--not that it would matter in the long run. It was  _ their _ house, and they  _ were _ all going to live in it.

“Certainly not, in a single witch’s house!” Molly said, sounding a little shrill.

“If Remus rented it, it would be more dangero--” Elodie started to say, but Molly spoke again, cutting her off.

“How often have you ever even  _ met _ Sirius, dear?”

The ‘dear’ didn’t sound like an endearment, in that moment. It sounded an awful lot like the way the Southern women in Elodie’s acquaintance would say ‘bless your heart’ but really mean something like, ‘you are a complete idiot.’

“Molly?” Albus said carefully.

“I  _ just think _ it’s possible to make emotional decisions, here,” Molly said. “Do you  _ really _ want to live alone in a house with two wizards?”

Even though Albus thought it was a good idea, and Remus  _ knew _ it was a good idea, Elodie felt as though she was sitting there with four pairs of eyes staring at her, waiting to hear what she was going to say. And suddenly, Elodie knew  _ precisely _ what to say.

She let her voice sound hard and uncompromising. “Which emotions are those, Mrs. Weasley? The kind where I don’t want him to sleep on the floor of a cave anymore?”

“Well,” Molly said, still sounding highly upset.

“Or the emotions that lead me to believe he should have a fair trial, to have his name cleared?”

“Now, I didn’t say--”

“Ohhh!” Elodie said, making her voice sound as if she’d just realized something significant. “The kind of emotions where he’s a Pureblooded  _ bad boy, _ and I’m desperately in  _ love _ with him,” (and here, Elodie actually let herself clutch at her throat in a caricature of swooning, before hardening her voice to drive in her point) “--so I’m going to provide a safe place for him to sleep and eat to get him ready for a fair trial to prove his innocence?”

“Oh,  _ Merlin,” _ Remus whispered in a choked voice.

Silence reigned.

“Whmduumbin,” Molly finally mumbled.

“I’m terribly sorry, Molly, but I didn’t quite catch that,” Albus asked solicitously.

“When do you move in?” Molly sniffed. She stood up in a sudden, swift movement, and said, distractedly, “I’m sure I’ve got bedding and towels or something to give you three.” Then, she walked off into the kitchen, with all four adults in the room watching her with wide eyes.

“That actually went pretty well,” Arthur said, standing to look warily at the kitchen doorway.

“It did?!” Elodie whimpered, letting herself fall sideways onto the couch. 

8888888888888888

Arthur eventually went to find Molly, followed by Albus and Remus, and when Molly returned, her arms were laden with piles of sheets, blankets, and towels.

“Oh, we couldn’t  _ possibly--” _

“Now, before you object, you should know that these sheets all have holes I’ve repaired, and most of the towels are pretty thin, but I’d rather they be put to use!” 

“That’s incredibly generous of you, thank you so much,” Elodie said softly. “And, can I say?” she started, then stopped, waiting for Molly to nod or otherwise indicate she would be all right with Elodie saying something further.

To her very great surprise, Molly walked over and took Elodie’s hand in hers. “Go on, dear?”

“I-- Wow, okay,” Elodie said, taken aback a bit. She felt a little ashamed of herself to think that maybe Molly might have held their encounter against her, but she took a deep breath and began.  “I want you to know that my rudeness earlier was all about how I feel about taking care of my friends. None of it had anything to do with how much respect I have for you, but I could understand if--”

Suddenly, she was enveloped in a warm embrace, as Molly grabbed her tightly.

Albus, Remus, and Arthur came back into the room just then, explaining that they’d been examining some of the furniture that Arthur had out in his storage area in case any of it would be of use to the new house. Elodie was overcome by their generosity, and she hugged Molly back before they moved away from each other.

“Don’t you fuss a whit,” Molly said to her fiercely. “You’re exactly what those two men need, I’m sure. You clearly won’t take any nonsense!”

“Don’t worry, she doesn’t,” Remus said, walking past and settling into the couch next to where Elodie had been sitting. Self-consciously, Elodie walked over and sat beside him.

“I wonder what House you’d have been sorted to, at Hogwarts,” Molly mused. “I don’t know much about the North American school, does it have Houses?”

“I don’t remember,” Elodie admitted sadly. “By all rights I  _ should _ remember, but…”

“Elodie’s mentor cursed her memory,” Albus explained to the Weasleys. “It’s complicated, but her memory is patchy.”

“And a lot of it is planted, Muggle memories, from what I understand,” Remus added.

“So you don’t actually remember your schooling? Not even the Muggle bits?” Arthur asked, disappointment written on his face.

Elodie leaned over toward him. “I actually  _ do _ remember some Muggle bits,” she confided. “We can chat later?”

“I’d be delighted,” he told her.

“But the magic?” Molly asked.

Elodie shook her head. “I’ve spent the past two months studying textbooks from the library, actually.”

Remus was sitting up, looking at the ceiling as though he were focusing on a memory. “I remember, now. You were practicing  _ Accio,” _ he said. She nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly, looking wounded.

“I didn’t even tell you I was the one brewing for you! Would you have trusted your Wolfsbane if you knew I spent hours in my room casting spells out of classroom spellbooks?” Then, she grabbed at his hand and, heedless of anyone watching them, clasped it with both of hers. “I  _ promise  _ you I did everything possible to make sure it was safe. I would  _ never, ever  _ put you in danger, okay?”

“I trust you, Ellie,” Remus said. He placed his other hand on top of their joined hands. “Never doubt it.”

“So,” Albus said, commanding everyone’s attention. “Now that the Weasleys are informed about Sirius, Arthur, will you tell us about what the Ministry is doing about the riot, to the best of your knowledge?”

By the time they were done sharing information and ideas, it was past ten in the evening. They’d decided that their mini version of the Order would be in information gathering mode, each in their varying ways. Arthur promised to continue to keep his eyes and ears receptive, while at the Ministry. Albus told them he would watch out for any signs from his students that their parents may have participated in the attack on the Muggles. Elodie told them she would speak with Sirius about anything he may have overheard while at large the past year, especially in regards to the Dementors, which everyone felt were starting to seem dangerous and unpredictable.

“What about me?” Remus asked, just as they were about to leave.

_ It’s too early to send him to the werewolves. They wouldn’t send him to the werewolves already. It’s definitely too early. They wouldn’t. Please. _ Elodie could feel the terror winding itself tighter and tighter in her mind, and she felt the way Remus’s posture on the couch beside her got straighter, less relaxed. He was going to ask her what was wrong, he was going to--

“Research?” she blurted out, grasping at straws. “I’m sorry, this is probably stupid, but--Remus has the most amazing vocabulary of spells. There’s got to be a way to harness that, right?”

“Remus?” Albus prompted.

“Offensive or defensive?” Remus asked grimly.

“Honestly? Both.”

Everyone turned to look at Arthur Weasley, who had just spoken.

“The Ministry is in cover-up mode. It’s the extent that they’re willing to go with that that worries me, to be honest. Fudge isn’t allowing anyone to take a good hard look at what the problem is, and that doesn’t sit right with me. I think they know, and they’re scared, and they’re trying to rug sweep.”

“Not just spells,” Molly chimed in. “Laws, Remus. Look into all of the laws to do with Muggle-borns. I don’t want to see anything happen to Hermione or any of the other children. It doesn’t matter that mine are purebloods, this will affect them, too.”

“I can help,” Elodie said quietly to Remus. “Since I got you into this mess?”

His amused expression as he nodded eased her anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reception for the story so far! I really appreciate every kudo, bookmark, comment, and hit so much!


	14. Remus and Moony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus describes what it's like to be a werewolf, and Elodie decides that what she wants most in the world is a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of loving chapter 19 with the power of 6 billion suns, I am posting Chapter 14 for you. I love it quite dearly too!

Elodie toyed with the idea of going to Platform 9¾ the next day, but decided that she didn’t have any reason to be there, and it might be awkward for the few students who did recognize her. Instead, she spent nearly the entire day at the library, looking at magical reference books in preparation to borrowing a targeted few about obscure defensive magic spells. She hadn’t told Remus, because she was very restless, this particular full moon, and she didn’t want him to sense anything in her. 

The truth was, she wanted to have this week over and done with. She was anxious about so many things, and she couldn’t do anything about them, not for a long while yet. She was haunted by the time Alastor Moody was going spend locked away. She couldn’t remember how long it would be until the Goblet of Fire would spit Harry’s name out. She wanted to move into the house and be  _ settled, _ instead of all of this waiting, even if the wait was only for one more week. Worst of all, she felt stupid for wishing the full moon were over faster, because she just flat out missed talking with Remus.

If Elodie was honest with herself, though, that wasn’t what bothered her the most this particular week. Molly’s hug had reminded her what it was like to have physical affection from someone. She really missed that; even though she’d lived alone, she had had friends, in her old life. She missed them, but something about living in the UK made it feel like she had just left them behind in favor of a long vacation, or something. She was finally realizing just how much she missed those friends, and the hugs and casual hanging out kind of touching they’d done, arms slung around each other when talking, or falling asleep on each other’s couches while watching movies late at night.

Here, she had Albus as a friend (though he was more like a non-terrible mentor, really) and Remus. Complicated didn’t even begin to describe her friendship with Remus. She felt both relaxed and cautious around him, all at the same time. Even though her list-making mind could fill a parchment with a catalogue of the times they’d touched, most of them were incidental or comforting, and even when they were the latter, each was very situational. So situational that right now, when Elodie felt like she needed to seek out her closest friend and just ask for a hug, she didn’t feel like she ought to. Not because Remus wouldn’t have gladly offered to, but because she knew the closed-off, shuttered way he’d probably look if she asked.

In an awful way, Elodie wondered what would have happened if Sirius hadn’t mentioned any memory spells, that day when the fairy had drugged them. Would Remus be so averse to any hint of romantic involvement if he’d remembered what it had felt like when they’d been tricked into thinking they  _ were _ involved? Couldn’t they have dealt with the inevitable week or two of awkwardness and come out the other side?

As a result of all of this soul-searching, she hid in the library, dragging lightweight reading to book chat and superficially talking to everyone, hiding the odd sort of physical loneliness she was experiencing. In the very back of her mind, something told her that Sirius of all people would understand the problem. He’d probably be fine with her needing to just…  _ lean up against someone _ sometimes, without there being some fear that the implications of that lean could someday, down the road, in the wrong circumstances, bode poorly for Elodie.

Remus was his own kind of distracted, packing up his things and, he’d told her, sorting through them so he’d know what he wanted to have out in the living room area, and what he’d keep in his bedroom. She listened to him telling her about the books he’d been going through, and she tried to let their easy camaraderie substitute for what she needed. Unfortunately, Remus seemed even more stand-offish than usual, which made sense, as it was the full moon week, after all. The day before the full moon, during their book chat, they shared the bench in the shade, again. Elodie laughed at something Remus said about the sort of books he’d bought as a teenager, and she leaned her head over to rest it on his shoulder while she laughed. Remus stiffened, and while he didn’t move away, he stopped laughing with her. 

She tried not to react, since she knew his reasons for not being affectionate were probably myriad, not the least of which might have been his werewolf senses that particular week. He still noticed her disappointment, though.

“Everything all right?” he asked her a few minutes of silence later.

“Hmm? No? Just reading,” Elodie said.

“You’re not, though. You’re looking at the page, but your eyes aren’t moving along the words,” Remus pointed out.

Elodie set the book down, not bothering to hold her place. “You’re right. I’m distracted today, that’s all.”

“Can I help?” Remus offered.

Without meaning to, Elodie barked out a rough laugh. “No, you can’t.”

He did help, though. He brought up something to talk about, even though later that night, Elodie couldn’t remember what it had been. He’d made her laugh again, too. 

Somehow, though, she still felt completely awful. Then, she realized what was bothering her: she was hung up on the way he’d touched her, the last full moon. Not just the way he’d made her feel before he’d left, either. The way he’d acted that night, asking her about the spell, removing the anklet, holding her steady against him as she had leaned up and kissed his cheek.

A thought came to her, as she lay in her bed, revisiting those memories. A perilous  _ (unworthy, insidious, unfair)  _ thought. The basis of it was the way Remus had basically given her a pass on using that speed-up curse on his Wolfsbane, because he’d found out about it  _ right _ before the full moon. He’d only taken the time to talk to her about it later, when they were both calm. The angry reaction she’d been expecting from him had been almost entirely diffused by the timing of his discovery.

What if she just went and asked for a hug, before the full moon rose?

The more she thought about it, the more tantalizing the idea became for her. He would certainly want to make her feel better, she reasoned. Remus was a kind, generous, and careful friend. He’d hate to see her suffer for the lack of anything, even if it was something he was unwilling to offer ordinarily. But would he really be angry with her if she chose to ask him for something like a hug, for some  _ closeness? _ Especially if, shortly afterwards, his transformation was greatly eased due to something she had done for him, his Wolfsbane? 

Elodie had tried to forget the idea by rolling over and telling herself very strictly to go to sleep. When she woke up the next morning, the morning of the full moon, though, it was the first thing she thought of. 

_ What would be the harm in just… going out there, an hour before--a half hour before, and just asking for a hug? Surely that is not the end of the world?! _

The thought clung to her, and she actually rolled back over, that morning, and fell back to sleep, missing breakfast. She dreamed that she’d gone down to the cellar, and walked up to Remus, who had been chained to the wall. In the dream, Elodie had asked Remus to hug her, and he’d held her close, his hand in her hair, heartbeat under her cheek, until the transformation had taken him. 

Elodie woke up with the sense memory of claws tangled in her hair. She had real tear tracks on her face.

Instead of going to lunch, Elodie Apparated to the library.  _ Destination, Deliberation, Determination, _ she told herself right before she cast the spell to Apparate. She knew exactly where she was going, she knew just how to get there, and she was determined, all right. Determined to avoid Remus, certain she’d be full of anxious embarrassment. It seemed too ironic that this was all over a simple  _ hug, _ not even the technicolor memories of kissing him, her body pressed against his, with her hands buried in his hair.

She arrived safely outside the library, her books to return still safely carried in the conjured backpack she’d put on before she left.

Though she walked back, the sense of triumph and accomplishment she felt was quite gratifying. She walked from the path into the courtyard and into dinner, hanging the backpack on the back of her chair before she sat down.

“What happened?” Remus asked her when he came back to the table. She hadn’t even realized it was his table, and the casual way he spoke to her as though he had been a constant companion throughout the day made her laugh.

“I Apparated to the library,” she told him, grinning. “I didn’t even throw up!”

“That’s amazing!” he said to her, his fork paused in midair as he grinned. “Clearly all in one piece, or I’d have been able to tell,” he added.

“You sense injuries?” she asked him quietly.

“Blood, yes.”

“That makes sense.” Elodie looked around to see that there were few residents still eating; their table was empty but for them. “I’d meant to ask you before, do you have memory issues on--on the last… on today?”

Remus looked at her speculatively. “Yes, a few,” he said, his eyebrows knitting together as he clearly tried to figure out why she was asking. “It’s not something obvious.”

“Is it related somehow to the potion? Or possibly the way your eyes change?” Elodie pressed. Now, he looked a bit alarmed, and she rushed to reassure him. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, I was just thinking about the last time, and there was just something about it--”

“The way my anger about your spell acceleration was essentially dispelled,” he guessed.

“For the record, I’m not complaining about how that went,” she said, holding her hands up. She mentally  _ commanded _ herself not to blush. “It did make me wonder about the potion effects, though.”

“Let’s put these things away, and I’ll show you the cellar,” Remus said, standing. Elodie knew this was a way of getting them some privacy during such a sensitive conversation, so she nodded, and helped him clear the table of their dishes. She slipped her bookbag onto her back, and they walked out into the courtyard, where Remus directed her a gravel trail on the opposite side of the courtyard.

Remus looked around before he finally answered her earlier question in a quiet voice. “The truth is, the potion doesn’t affect the wolf as much as it affects  _ me.  _ Think of it this way:” he said, holding up his hands, as though praying, then separating his palms so his hands were an inch apart. “My right hand is me,” he said, shaking it for her. “My left is the wolf.” He collapsed his hands so that they were both palm down, the right atop the left. He then lifted his right hand up to his chin, while lowering his left hand to his waist. “This is me, normally. Hardly any connection, if at all.”

Elodie nodded, fascinated.

“As we near the full moon, about when I would start taking Wolfsbane, I feel more connected to the wolf.” Remus’s hands neared each other, the right still hovering over the left. “Without Wolfsbane, this week is a bit more chaotic. More like--” and here, he resumed the prayerful stance, hands almost touching. “With Wolfsbane, I have more control.” His left hand retreated down while still pointing skyward, his right retaining dominance. “Then, tonight, the closer to the actual full moon--” Remus raised his left hand, pressing it to his right and interlacing his fingers.

“I think I understand,” Elodie said. “So without the potion, the wolf is more dominant, even though you’re in charge, until you shift.”

Remus nodded.

“With the potion, it’s still there, under the surface, but not as prominent?”

“Yes, with an odd sort of exception.” Remus stopped their slow ambling walk, showing her a small shed and changing the subject a little. “Inside here is a staircase to the basement. Winnifred has some very interesting wards set. Humans can’t enter the staircase, for one thing. She has some complicated spells set to activate at a wand tap. I needed them, last time.”

“I was surprised to see you so close to the full moon, last time,” Elodie told him. Right now, they had just under four hours.

“That’s the exception I mentioned. The wolf is… impulsive, we’ll say,” Remus said, leaning up against the sturdy looking wall of the shed, facing her. “Despite the power of Wolfsbane, it’s not fully effective until I’m shifted. It’s as though the wolf becomes adjusted to it in my human system after a week’s worth, but then, once in wolf form, the balance of power is flipped again.”

“Back to right hand ascendancy?” Elodie suggested.

“Yes, except for that short period, right before I turn. I was still mentally there, when I came to see you,” Remus said, holding his hands palm flat, against each other. “Mostly because I wanted to know if I was right about your cursed spell. But by the time I left…” He interlaced his fingers again.

“But then, as a werewolf, it’s--” Elodie held her own hands palm down, right over left, up by her chest.

Remus laughed. “I wish. No, for the transformation, it’s more like I’m on a broom chasing the wolf on his own broom. That’s with Wolfsbane. Without, I was holding onto his broom with my fingernails, dangling off.”

“That’s a really vivid image,” Elodie told him, crossing her arms against the chill she got as she pictured it. “For me, I picture it as though you were injected with the soul of a wolf that flows through your veins. It waxes and wanes with the moon, blowing through your physical body like a enlarging ghost, every four weeks, only to deflate away into almost nothingness in between.”

“That’s… exactly how it is.” Remus’s eyes were raw and full of intensity when she looked at him after saying that. She wondered how long it would be, tonight, before the gold would manifest in them, signifying the wolf’s coming to the surface, right before it was tamed by her Wolfsbane potion.

“Well, I know what I should grow in our garden, anyway,” Elodie told him, turning to start back along the little-used path toward the main building of Hollyfield.

“Oh?” Remus’s voice came from behind her.

“Aconite.”

8888888888888888

Instead of going into Hollyfield via the courtyard, Elodie and Remus went in the side door and straight into the potions room. After drinking his Wolfsbane, Remus bid Elodie good night.

As soon as he left the room, Elodie leaned her forehead against the door. Nothing of what Remus had told her gave her any excuses to try to tell herself that going to him right before his transformation would be a bad idea. He had, in fact, given her every reason to believe that he might have difficulty even remembering that she’d been there in the first place, which was incredibly tempting.

Elodie spent the next hour and a half carefully and methodically cleaning and packing up the potions area around the Wolfsbane cauldron that they’d just finished with. She had to admit that magic, while sometimes complicated, made things like not dropping books and having extra hands (levitation was seriously just the  _ bomb _ , as she’d probably said in the 90s the first time around _ ) _ very easy. Even so, she made a note to look for some kind of floor cushioning charm after she’d dropped two different things she’d been afraid would shatter, given how distracted she was.

Finally, everything was packed and prepared to be transported within the week, and Elodie was out of excuses. She went out of the room, locked the door, and walked over to the side door, the adrenaline gaining more distance in her system with each step. 

“This is seriously ridiculous, Elodie,” she told herself when she paused at the door instead of pushing it open to look up at the sky. “It’s only a  _ hug, _ in the end! Besides, the full moon is--” She pushed the door open. “Not out yet. Shit. Yay? I don’t even know.”

It was a beautiful, warm night, and Elodie stood in the doorway and bounced on the balls of her feet for a full minute before she muttered a heartfelt  _ “Fuck it,” _ and started walking in the direction of the cellar.

She’d almost changed her mind when she got there, but she’d forgotten his heightened senses. She was fully ten yards away or more when he turned toward the sound of her feet on the gravel pathway. Elodie stopped when she saw him, but something told her if she walked away now, even if she didn’t run, he’d follow after her. So, she walked toward him, her anxiety growing more powerful with each step.

“You’re still outside,” she said, at a loss to figure out what to say. 

“You need something.” His eyes were ringed thickly with the same golden hue she’d seen a full lunar cycle ago.

The way Remus phrased this was so odd as to be almost alien, and with a stab of awareness in her gut, Elodie realized that this was what he’d meant about having the wolf so close to the fore. 

“Elodie? Look at me, please,” Remus said, sounding more like himself. She’d expected him to scold her, but his voice right now was gentle. With a fortifying deep breath, she lifted her eyes to his. Green-gold eyes looked back at her with confidence and assessment. “What do you need? I can tell there’s something you want. Tell me,” he all but commanded her.

“I--” She broke off, having lost all of her nerve. What was she  _ doing _ here bothering a man tormented by demons he just barely held at bay--seeking to ask for something a toddler would, as if he didn’t have bigger problems?!

She’d forgotten everything she’d learned, it seemed, even things she’d realized from her late-night brainstorming session the night before. The closer Remus was to his wolf, the more physical he was, that’s what she’d realized then. Yet here she was, standing in front of him less than an hour before his transformation, completely shocked by the hand that came to rest under her chin, lifting her face to his gaze almost as a lover would.

Instantly, irrevocably, her physical reaction to his touch invoked the reaction her heart held in trust for him. She gasped and stepped back, just as she’d done exactly a month beforehand. On that day, her confrontation with Remus’s wolf self had caused her to confess that she had bargained her life force against the potion she’d brewed for him. Now, she feared that she’d bargained her  _ soul _ for absolutely nothing.

Remus’s hand still hung in the air like an accusation.

_ “Tell me,” _ he repeated, as if confused by her reticence. Elodie almost laughed. Her feelings  _ had _ to be obvious to him, given the way she’d sucked in a shocked breath at the feel of his hand against her. He couldn’t have failed to notice the way her heart had stuttered in her chest, the way her body had responded, blithely, as though preparing for more touches that would-- _ of course-- _ never come. And yet, his eyes, almost full gold, now, gave her a sliver of hope that he might not remember her nonverbal confession.

Elodie clung to the only thing she had left: the truth.

“It’s stupid. I’m ashamed to tell you, okay? So, go on, I’ll see you tomorrow, after you rest up.”

Remus’s answering chuckle was sexy, damn him. “You know I’ll hound you to tell me what it was, tomorrow. Maybe I won’t remember?”

Elodie stared at him. “What, are you  _ using _ this, this, what would you even call it? Merger of your two selves to try to persuade me?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” His eyes almost glowed in the darkness, and she shot a worried glance up at the sky, to reassure herself that the moon hadn’t yet risen.

“You won’t remember?” she asked, biting her lip. 

“Can’t promise that,” he said, and she could see a slight tremble in his limbs, a sign of how physical his transformation would be, soon. “Tell me anyway.”

She turned her back on him and walked away a few steps, finding her childish appeal too embarrassing to face him with. “I want…  _ ugh _ , this is stupid. A hug. I--just… I want--I  _ miss, _ friends that touch me, and I shouldn’t be asking, the moon is going to--”

“There’s time,” Remus- _ -Moony- _ -said, his voice right by her ear. She hadn’t heard him come closer, but his reflexes were probably at their very height, right now. She almost expected his arms to come around her right then, but something told her he was waiting for her to make the move toward him, and he wasn’t going to ask.

Gathering up all of her courage, Elodie turned, slowly, to face him. He was so close that her arms brushed up against him. He didn’t have to move much at all to rub his (large, warm) hands along her upper arms, although they shook slightly.

“You’re all alone here, almost,” he told her. “No pack.” Startled, Elodie looked up at his face, expecting to see his eyes as completely golden. They weren’t. Remus grinned at her, his two-toned eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m not wrong, though.”

“Werewolf humor?!” Elodie said, incredulously.

Remus/Moony just folded her into his chest in a bear hug and brushed his lips along her forehead, saying, “I would never joke about missing your friends, no matter what word is used.”

Her arms were pressed against his chest, but Elodie revelled in the hug anyway. She slid her fingers into the folds of his shirt and buried her head against his chest, murmuring a thank you as the primal comfort of being held by another person softened the edges of her jagged emotions. Remus had one arm wrapped around her, with his other hand flat against her back.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his voice low and gravelly in her ear. Assuaged by the thing she’d needed, affection, Elodie’s body responded to the cues it had been given, heat pooling low. She was acutely aware that he’d sense that, too, just as he’d sussed out the other need she’d had and forced her to address it. Elodie stiffened, but to her utter shock, the man holding her did not push her away, he pulled her closer, tightening his hold on her. “Don’t,” he whispered, when she lifted her head from against his chest and uncurled her fingers.

Shame and fear of Remus’s reaction led her to stutter at him as she pulled her head back to apologize. “I didn’t ask for--I  _ wouldn’t--” _

Pure golden eyes met hers. “You didn’t. He wouldn’t.  _ I would.” _

Then, his hands moved up along her body and into her hair, framing her face, and his lips came crashing down against hers. 

There was no easy familiarity, just possession. Moony--it  _ had _ to be Moony--took her shock and turned it to his advantage, sliding his tongue deep inside of her mouth as though it belonged there, chasing her tongue to brush and tease. One hand slid down against her throat, keeping her head angled up, easier for him to take what he wanted.

She’d already been vulnerable and impulsive, she’d had to be to come looking for him in the first place, so she wasn’t in a position to hide how much she needed this. So instead of holding back to try to salvage some kind of plausible deniability, Elodie just groaned and slid an arm around him, her hand sliding up underneath his shirt, against the skin of his back.

Now she _knew_ it was Moony who held her, because he didn’t flinch at all when her fingers brushed along the edge of a scar on his back, and neither did she.

When Moony pulled back from her lips, he slid his nose against her neck as he’d done the month before, and she shivered, her hand spasming at his chest where she’d caught a handful of his shirt fabric.

“You’re not afraid,” he said, low and harsh. “That’s not fear.”

She shook her head. A slow, devilish smile grew on his face, and impulsively she stoked it, stretching up on her tiptoes to drag her own nose against his neck, just a small bit, where she could reach. His response was immediate. Both hands reached down to lift her bodily against him, and he took three long strides until she had the smooth wall of the shed at her back. Then he pressed himself against her, watching for her reaction.

“Moony?” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed at his overt arousal and the way her own flared to life at his touch.

“Mmm?” was his response, as he leaned down and caught her lips with his, over and over, at different angles. His heartbeat under her hands was racing, racing, and even though he was full of confidence, his body shook, not with fear, but in preparation.

“He’ll never forgive me,” she whispered, torn, possibly wrecked. She hitched a leg up anyway, hissing at the way her movement maximized her contact with him.

Moony slid his hands, fingers spread wide, up along her sides, until he firmly grasped her arms. He pulled them up and around his neck, and then slid his hands back down, one thumb trailing over a nipple through her shirt, as he stepped away from the shed. His movements slid her down, against his body, in such a confident, sensual way that Elodie made a whimpering noise at how it felt.

“I won’t tell,” he whispered in her ear. Then, he leaned over and kissed her one last time, hand tangled in her hair, possessive and greedy. As he pulled away, he slid his hand around from her hair over her mouth, sliding the pads of his fingers across her lips. Moony moved his hand down, pressing one slightly shaking finger against her lips. “Shhhh,” he whispered.

With a glance at the sky, then, he ripped open the door to the shed and disappeared inside. The sound of his feet pounding down the stairs echoed through the open door.

Elodie shut her eyes and trembled for a long moment. Then, she opened them again and walked over to shut the shed door as if in a trance.

_ “What?!” _ she said, aloud. Her voice sounded tiny and insignificant in the darkness, and the awareness of where she was and who she had just been with caused her to run back to Hollyfield as fast as her legs could carry her. Elodie forgot that she was a witch, forgot that she was anything but defenceless, while behind her, the full moon rose in the sky. 

8888888888888888

She would just have to never leave her room again, that was the only viable solution in the harsh light of day. 

There would be no house, no Floo, no friends, no Order of the Phoenix, no Hogwarts, nothing. Elodie told herself hysterically that she would just conjure up food to sustain herself and send Owls to reassure everyone she was  _ just fine, thank you,  _ with no word about the existential crisis she was having.

It was a whopper of a crisis. Every time she shut her eyes, he was there. Every casual thought of something innocuous was followed by a flash of memory, lips, hands, hips. She’d gotten her hug, filled that void, only to hollow out an entirely new and dangerous one.

Since she’d woken up, all of her movements had been jerky and rushed, as if by darting around the room and snatching up her belongings when she needed them would minimize the amount of time she was observable, in her own strange logic. She rushed over to the desk, expertly ripping off a roll of parchment and grabbing the self-inking quill.

> Dear Sirius,
> 
> Can it be the eighth now, please?
> 
> Apropos of nothing, will you tell me if you ever spent much time with Remus when his wolf was in control?
> 
> I am shameless: I know you won’t turn me in to the Ministry if I threaten to hex you with something awful if you even hint to him that I’ve asked this, be warned.
> 
> It’s probably nothing, I just noticed some out of character behavior
> 
>  

Elodie stopped and stared at the phrase ‘out of character’ until the words started floating in the moisture her eyes created in their need to blink. The phrase had too many meanings for her in that moment, not the least of which was the fact that it probably  _ wasn’t _ out of character, depending on Sirius’s answer.

 

> It’s probably nothing, I just noticed some odd behavior and was curious about it, since I know the two of you are close. He’s sensitive about it, I think, and asking him would just make me feel awful.
> 
> He and I got a bunch of supplies for the house this week, including a huge bed for you, to make up for all the years of sleeping in ghastly shitholes. I even distracted Remus while I picked it out so he didn’t find some reason why you didn’t need a bed large enough to roll over a few times in. I assumed you might want to be there to watch him try to reason his way out of being extravagant,  _ and  _ I bought it with my own money, which he doesn’t even know.
> 
> I’ve got your back, is what I’m saying.
> 
> Your future housemate,
> 
> Elodie
> 
> Ps. Am I right in thinking that neither of us, due to negative circumstances, have actually had to be adults in the magical world for over a decade?

 

Writing Sirius a cheeky letter cheered Elodie up until she remembered she couldn’t send it without leaving her room. She stood up and frowned, frowned some more, then got dressed as quickly as she could, even doing the ‘hop toward the door while still putting on slip-on shoes’ thing.

Chances were high Remus was still asleep, after his long night transformed. She could sneak out and send her message and--

“Am I  _ really _ hiding from him, or joking about it to myself, though?” Elodie asked herself in the doorway to her room. There was only one way to find out.

8888888888888888

She totally hid in her room that whole day, the sixth of September.

Elodie told herself that Remus usually slept through most of the day after his transformation, though he did make appearances in the dining room sometimes. So she’d been able to ignore her guilt in not going out except to send Sirius a letter.

She missed breakfast on the seventh.

To be fair, there was a strange owl that came to her window about a half hour after she’d woken up, and when she let it in, she found a letter from Sirius.

> Dear Elodie,
> 
> Yes, I’m acquainted with Remus’s wolf. I call Remus Moony, but that’s mostly bullshit unless it’s the week before the full moon. Moony is a blunt, impulsive jerk, in my opinion, but that might be because I’m cocksure and Remus usually isn’t, so Moony resents me sometimes. If you wonder if he remembers, ask him how many times in his life I’ve actually punched him in the face. If it’s less than three, he doesn’t remember.
> 
> Elodie, don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel completely ridiculous for looking forward to a  _ bed. _ I’m still looking forward to it, but that’s far too responsible a reaction to have. I’m probably going to have a panic attack or faint or something. I’m asking you now if you can nurse me back to health?
> 
> I joke, but I’m very grateful for your influence, here.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Sirius
> 
> Ps. We’re both hopelessly unprepared for this, yes. Thank Merlin we’ve got Remus!

Elodie hugged his letter to her chest. She felt very heartened by his mostly flippant reaction. She felt it meant that at the very least Sirius had a contentious relationship with Moony, but that it clearly hadn’t affected his friendship with Remus himself. Being punched in the face was no small thing between friends, whether or not that approached the level of being ravished against a shed wall.

Her fingers curled up against her palms as if they were itching to bury themselves in his shirt again. Even though she’d known that the life force driving him was Moony, he’d been in Remus’s body, and that was the material issue, really. She could compartmentalize his behavior as Moony, but it was still with Remus’s hands that he’d touched her, Remus’s lips that he’d taken possession of hers, and his body that had been pressed against her.

Elodie covered her face with both hands. Then, there was a knock at her door.

A quick glance at her clothing told her she was properly dressed for the day, somehow, so she got up and, with Sirius’s letter still in one hand, she opened the door to her room.

Remus was standing there. He smiled at her, looking tired as he usually did for a day or so after the full moon.

“Good morning! Bart Owled. He said we are free to start moving in today, if we want. The paperwork for the Floo Network has gone through.”

A great sense of joy bubbled up in her. “Really?” she said, covering her mouth with a hand when it came out as almost a squeak.

“Yes. I’d sent him a message about it, because Arthur had told me he and Molly could come and help today since it’s Sunday, if there was a chance to.”

“Oh, that’s so--” Elodie crowed, but then she stopped mid happy twirl to come back to the doorway and look at him. “You should rest, though, shouldn’t you?”

“I think I’d rest better at  _ home, _ don’t you?” The look on his face showed that he was also looking forward to this, as she was. His words made her heart nearly stop with the kind of joy that comes from seeing a loved one being truly happy. He didn’t seem to be holding back, either, which told her he couldn’t possibly fully remember what Moony had done.

“I was just saying to Sirius,” Elodie lifted the letter, “I have zero idea what to do as a magical adult, when it comes to moving! Are you up to coordinating everything yourself? I’m going to be almost useless,” she said, worrying at her lip with her teeth.

“You’ll do fine, I have faith in you,” Remus said, tipping his head down and rocking on his heels before saying, while looking up at her with a hopeful expression, “So today, then?”

“Let’s do it,” she affirmed, grinning. Then, before she could change her mind, “Remus? This is random, but… how many times has our housemate punched you in the face, before?”

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but a full-on eye roll and exasperated expression was  _ not _ it. “Ugh, is he bragging? Give me that!”

Despite his werewolf reflexes, Elodie maintained her grasp on the letter, mostly because she’d widened her eyes at his mad reach for it and immediately stuffed it into her shirt--into her  _ bra. _ “He was not bragging, I promise. I may have asked if there were any prior incidents that might make house sharing awkward,” she fibbed smoothly. She was never more grateful for linguistic semantics.

“Once. He punched me in the face  _ once. _ ” Remus Lupin actually crossed his arms as he looked from her face to the tiny corner of Sirius’s letter that still peeked out over the top of her V-necked t-shirt. “I could still get that letter, you know.”

“Oh, come on. You wouldn’t reach for it in a million years,” Elodie told him. “I think your respect for my body autonomy is a credit to your personality.”

“I’m sure you do. I’m going to go Owl him, and the Weasleys,” Remus said, but he didn’t move for a few seconds. Instead, he looked down at her with narrowed eyes. She had a sense that he was once again using his heightened senses to search for an answer from her. Despite everything that had happened the day before, the twin answers from Sirius and Remus about Moony gave Elodie the confidence to look him right in the eye with confidence.

Something had changed, though, Elodie thought as she shut the door and started gathering up the various bags and crates that held their household supplies. For some reason, she felt more inclined to tease him than protect him, now.  _ Is that Sirius’s influence? _ she asked herself, curious.  _ Or Moony’s? _


	15. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to move in! Remus is displeased with Elodie's plans for where everyone sleeps, Elodie tells Sirius what Moony has been up to, and Sirius MAY have forgotten to tell anyone he is in charge of a hippogriff.

Magically moving house wasn’t anywhere near as physically taxing as regular Muggle moving, Elodie found, but it was still exhausting. Especially since she well and truly hated the dual feelings of both Apparition and Floo travel, but she gamely trudged back and forth from their house to Hollyfield House until Molly Weasley took one look at her and forced her to sit in the kitchen, out of the way. Part of the issue was that Sirius hadn’t arrived yet, so they were one adult short, but he wouldn’t have been able to go back and forth from the boarding house anyway.

“I’m fine, now, really!” Elodie called out the next time Molly and Remus came through the Floo with their arms piled high with items.

“One more Floo trip today and you’ll be covering the floor with vomit, young lady! I am  _ not _ cleaning up vomit from magically miniaturized furniture, it is an absolute nightmare!”

Molly disappeared into the hallway that held the two bedrooms and the bathroom shortly after saying this, and Remus came into the kitchen with his crate and started to spell the items back to their original sizes.

“That woman is seriously an expert level mother,” Elodie told him, feeling intimidated but also admiration for Molly at the same time. “Anyone else would be focusing on the fact that I’m unwell, but she’s very clear about how she’s not going to spend any time cleaning up after me. Which brings me to feel like I need to argue that I’m not about to make her do any more work!”

“The phrase ‘national treasure’ comes to mind, yes,” Remus said, reaching up to effortlessly place a few dishes in the highest cupboards. He was starting to look a bit ‘frayed around the edges’ tired, but was still steadily working.

“I could totally see the Minister for Magic arguing with her that he feels _just fine,_ _thank you_ and would she please not feel concerned that anyone will be making her launder his dress robes!” she joked. Then she saw Remus slide something from his pocket, place it into an old pressure cooker, and set the pot on top of the refrigerator. “You’re clearly hiding chocolate in one of those,” Elodie accused. “There’s no other reason to put them up so high, when Sirius and I can just use magic to get them back down.”

The look Remus shot in her direction was full of amusement and pride on top of the tiredness. “You’ll forget.”

“You’re probably right,” she acknowledged.

“That’s nearly everything,” Arthur said, leaning against the doorway.

“Thank you so very much,” Elodie told him. “And thank you for the table, here.”

She was sitting on one of the four chairs at the small wooden table the Weasleys had offered them for the house. 

“Glad it’s to some use; we moved on from needing a small one quite quickly, in the end,” Arthur told her, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, self-consciously. “I hoped the boys might want to use it for puzzles or something, but, no matter!”

Elodie didn’t say it, but she could not picture Bill, Charlie, or Percy Weasley ever sitting at a small table and putting a puzzle together as a group.

“Now, before we go, I want to set some of this up, so you don’t go leaving it packed away until it pops normal sized again. We had that trouble with Bill with his first place,” Molly said, coming into the room with her hands on her hips.

“Am I off of kitchen arrest, then?” Elodie asked meekly, but Molly was already out of the kitchen and halfway down the hall.

“One of you needs to bring in the beds for this bedroom right now before I start putting up bookshelves!” Molly called from rooms away. Arthur shook his head at her as if to say, ‘no chance.’

“Okay, you two might want to stay in here,” Elodie said, wincing. She walked over to the crate that had come from the furniture store and tried to pick it up. The first try failed, and when she tried to pick it up the second time, either Remus or Arthur cast a levitation charm so quietly that if she hadn’t been paying attention, she’d have thought she’d lifted it under her own power.

“The joke’s on you, that spell requires line of sight, and neither of you would let this fall on my feet, so come on,” Elodie said, shaking her head at them. She was completely unsurprised by the fact that it was Remus who followed her out into the living room. “Okay, I need to take some fortifying breaths, here,” she said, looking over at him. “You’ve got this?” she asked, nodding to the crate she was ‘carrying.’

“Yes, but what--”

“You’ll probably be on Molly’s side, here,” she told him. Then, she took out her wand and found Sirius’s bed in the crate, levitating it to follow her into the master bedroom. Her plan would work well whether Remus followed her into Sirius’s room with the rest of the furniture or not.

“Hello, sorry for the delay,” Elodie said, directing her wand toward the middle of the room. “Could you please stand back?”

Molly backed away from the middle of the room, where she’d been standing, but it was clear by the expression on her face that she was confused. Instead of questioning her, though, she just waited as Elodie cast the charm to unbind the huge bed from its shrinking charm, after she laid it down and cast the orienting charm that had come with the paperwork. Remus walked in just as she finished casting, his hands empty.

As she (but not Molly or Remus, given their reaction) had expected, the large wooden four-poster king sized bed folded itself out of its miniature to sit proudly in the middle of the room. Ignoring the shocked expressions of her friends, Elodie walked out of the room past the two of them and over to the closet full of linen from the Weasley household. 

_ “Accio King Sized Linens!” _ she cast, remembering from the time she’d spent sorting that they were in Gryffindor colors. 

Elodie felt a deep sense of satisfaction when the items she’d summoned slid out from the other folded fabric to stack neatly in midair in front of her, instead of what she’d expected to have happen, which was two sheets flying out to land on her head. She grabbed them from their hovering pile and walked briskly back into the master bedroom, where Remus and Molly were talking to each other in lowered voices. Then, she started to make the bed, the Muggle way.

“Elodie, dear,” Molly started to say.

“Remus’s bed goes next door,” Elodie interrupted in as sweet a tone of voice as she was able. “Along with most of the bookshelves.”

“Elodie.  _ Dear.” _

“Mine is the narrow bed. It goes downstairs,” Elodie said, laying across Sirius’s bed to tuck the last, tricky corner of the fitted sheet underneath the mattress. When she got up, she saw that Remus was looking at Molly in shock, and Molly’s face was bright red.

“So you didn’t get a big bed for you and--”

“I’m sorry, Molly, to interrupt, but… you didn’t  _ really _ think I got Sirius a gigantic bed because I was going to share it with him, did you?” Elodie said, her hands on her hips in indignation.

“It’s just that--” Molly started to protest, weakly, but Elodie interrupted her again to address Remus.

“Let me guess. You expected to have your bed in here, and now you’re confused, too?” 

“It makes sense that the larger room is the one being shared, yes,” he answered her. He sounded like he was ready to fight her on this, and his facial expression was stubborn to the extreme. “I’ll go retrieve that bed, can you handle moving this one over?”

“I’m not moving it over, Remus,” Elodie told him calmly. “I won’t let you do it, either.”

He crossed his arms. “You will have to leave the house to go to the library or the grocery store, at some point.”

Elodie shook out the flat, king sized Gryffindor sheet a little harder than she needed to, the clean fabric making a cracking sound. “Look at the walls in here.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Molly asked, her voice sounding a bit high and unhappy.

“They’re decorative. All that carving? No way can we put bookshelves in here. They’ll fit just fine in the smaller bedroom.” Elodie’s tone was that of an extremely patient, exasperated school teacher.

“So I’ll just make sure I knock if I need any of the books, no problem,” Remus told her. He hadn’t moved out of the doorway, and she wanted to set up his bed, even if he wouldn’t let her make it for him.

“Excuse me, please,” Elodie said, standing in front of him.

Molly came over to Elodie and tried using a tone of a confused and loving parent. “I just want to know why you think this huge monstrosity of a bed is--”

“Molly, I’m sorry I keep interrupting you, I really am. I got Sirius a huge bed because I thought it was a luxury worth having for him after all the years he spent in prison and in caves. The bookcases don’t fit in here, but they do fit in the  _ other bedroom.” _

“Where do you think you are going to sleep, Ellie?” Remus asked, his tone and phrasing showing his opinion loud and clear.

“Well, that’s an interesting story, actually, Remus,” Elodie said, coming up to stand directly in front of where he was blocking the doorway. “If you move, I’ll tell you.”

“If you put my bed in this room, I’ll happily move out of your way,” he said in an even, reasonable tone completely belied by the mulish expression on his face.

Elodie grinned. “The miniature is in the living room where you left it,” she said. “You first?”

“Promise me you’ll put it in here,” he demanded.

“I will not promise any such thing. Besides, even if I did promise that, my plans don’t involve sleeping on this floor of the house, so you’d only get your way with the bed. Then,  _ that _ would be a library room!” Elodie almost shouted, pointing to the smaller bedroom.

“I thought you brought in the furniture crate?” Molly asked, looking from Elodie to Remus and then back as if trying to decide which of them to try to pacify first.

“No, I just levitated Sirius’s bed. I knew Remus would argue with me.”

“You are unbelievable,” Remus said, looking at her speculatively for a second before turning his back on her, taking a deep breath, and then moving at unnatural speed out of the door, into the living room, levitating his shrunken bed, then coming back. Elodie herself made it just out of the doorway in the same amount of time. Unfortunately for Remus, she’d gone just far enough to stand in the doorway of what would be, once everyone was done arguing with her, his room. She felt guilty that he’d felt the need to push him on this so close to the full moon recovery period, but it was just bad timing.

Still, she held out her hand for the miniature.

“I’m not giving it to you,” Remus said. 

“Fine, but I don’t know why it bothers either of you so much!” she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. Elodie stomped out through the living room and into the kitchen, flinging open the door to the basement. As soon as she opened it, though, it slammed shut from Remus’s hand. She whirled around to look at him, feeling her nostrils flare in anger. For his part, Remus was also breathing heavily, and with his hand pressing the door shut, she felt like he was almost towering over her. He looked furious.

“You honestly thought that you would just arrange everything so that two grown men would take the bedrooms upstairs, and you would sleep where? The  _ servant’s quarters?! _ ”

“I  _ want _ to sleep down there. It’s quiet, and dark, and there’s enough room for--”

“Remus, Elodie, we’re going to head out,” Arthur said in an odd voice. When Elodie looked over at him, she saw that the smile on his face was forced, but the look in his eyes was firm. “Come on, Molly. They’ll work it out.”

Wide-eyed, Remus and Elodie both watched as Molly walked over to the fireplace, took a handful of Floo Powder, then turned and opened her mouth as if to argue with her husband. Arthur shook his head, and while Elodie couldn’t see the look on his face, the way Molly reacted was impressive. Her lips twitched, then she called out to them with forced gaiety.

“Have a lovely first day in your house!” Then she called out her own address and she was gone.

“I owe you one, Arthur,” Remus said.

“See you soon,” Arthur Weasley told them, then he too stepped into the fireplace.

“Well!” Sirius Black said as he stepped into the the room from the hallway. “That was dramatic.”

“Sirius!” Elodie said, pleased to see him.

“What in Merlin’s name did you say to them?” Remus asked before coming over and standing in front of Sirius.

Instead of answering, Sirius just grinned, looking up at Remus with a wealth of affection on his face before gesturing around the room as if to say ‘look! It’s ours!’

“Welcome  _ home,” _ Remus finally said. His tone set an ache to Elodie’s throat.

“And you,” Sirius whispered, then he reached up and hugged Remus tightly to him.

Elodie turned and opened the basement door quietly, as she felt that the men needed some time to themselves. She’d snuck at least a few containers of her things downstairs, mostly by packing her clothing at the top, leaving it a logical step for her to want to take those down to the laundry room.

The room was as cozy and warm as she’d remembered, when she pushed the creaky door open and walked inside. It was larger than a typical laundry room, about the same size as the kitchen above it, and the machines were snuggled into the alcove underneath the stairs. A large table probably meant for folding and sorting laundry was located against the windowed wall, and Elodie quickly reduced it into a miniature and set it on top of the dryer. There was a closet recessed into the perpendicular wall with windows, and across from that, there was a blank space where Elodie planned to set her bed. She’d measured the bed, and now with trepidation, she measured the space she intended to place it in.

They lined up with a few inches to spare, and she clapped her hands together and grinned. In a few minutes, her bed was placed and enlarged, and she’d laid out some clothes that had been folded and packed in preparation for hanging them in the closet. After a few more incantations, the closet was rearranged more to her liking, with a different color scheme. Then, she conjured a long tension rod and placed it between the wall just under a window, and the place the wall and staircase met. There she hung a curtain that she’d bought for herself at Hellene’s. She thought it was just beautiful, and she’d gotten a matching pillowcase and comforter. Right before she went back upstairs to search for some more of her belongings to put away, Elodie found the soft, blue-green rug with silver accents that she’d bought. It matched her curtain and bedspread, and she laid it out so that when she woke in the mornings, she’d be able to bury her feet in it when she first sat up and swung her feet out onto the floor.

Elodie turned in the doorway to look at her handiwork. It looked much more homey than it had earlier, and it felt like an intimate little getaway nook, just as she had intended.

As she mounted the stairs, she could hear the happy voices of her housemates. When she walked into the living room, she found them both sprawled out on the floor, Sirius in the very center of the room on his back, Remus against the wall beside the big picture window, his legs spread out flat in front of him.

“I assume you’ve nested, already,” Remus said, displeasure in his voice.

“Yes, thank you. I think that makes it your turn.”

“How about a truce? If your room looks like it would pass Hogwarts dorm room muster, I’ll stop questioning it.” 

“Really? No more ‘servants quarters’ accusations?” Elodie said, settling against the narrow, protruding wall next to the fireplace. 

“I’m missing something here,” Sirius said, not raising his head from its position against the floor.

“Elodie has given  _ you _ the master bedroom,  _ me _ the second bedroom, and has fixed up a room in the  _ cellar _ to sleep in,” Remus told him. “She won’t listen to reason.”

“Did you really?” Sirius said, lifting just his head up to look at her.

“Yes. Because I don’t like much light when I’m sleeping, and it seems like a colossal waste to have one of those beautiful bright bedroom windows all locked down for me. I also plan to spend most of my time in  _ here _ . Unfortunately Remus and Molly seem more concerned with how something could look to others, as opposed to what I actually  _ want!” _

“That sounds completely reasonable to me,” Sirius said, setting his head back down.

“You didn’t say--” Remus began, but Elodie glared at him with enough force that he stopped protesting. “All right, we didn’t give you a chance to explain. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t just tell you all right away instead of trying to hide it because I thought you’d object,” Elodie said. “I made it worse.”

“Now that you’re not angry, does that call for celebratory bed jumping?” Sirius asked, sitting up and grinning.

“That is  _ not _ why I got you a gigantic bed!” Elodie said, shaking her head at him.

“Oh, come on, that was the least offensive thing I could think of,” Sirius said, sounding wounded. “There were plenty of other options.”

Remus stood up, somehow managing to look graceful while he did so. “--and that’s why you’re going to come help me put up bookshelves,” he told Sirius, holding his hand out to help the other man up. “Because you’re still thinking them.”

Sirius looked at Remus’s hand for a few seconds before turning away from his friend and doing a kind of twist and push, the result of which was standing without any help. It was, Elodie noted,  _ also _ graceful in a weird, acrobatic kind of way.

“Remind me  _ never _ to sit on the floor in a room with either of you,” she told them. “Unless I can learn a spell that lifts me from the floor in a cloud of stardust and angel wings, I’ll never manage to get up as gracefully as either of you did.” She tried not to pout as she said it, but it was a near thing.

Sirius stood and looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes for a good ten seconds before Remus hooked an arm around his neck and started walking him toward the hallway. He called out, over his shoulder, “He’s still thinking offensive things, Elodie, so I’ll remove him before he puts his foot in it. An hour of moving all my books out of the trunks ought to do the trick.”

“Good plan, I’ll start in here,” Elodie told him, giggling into her hand. By the time two minutes had passed Sirius was protesting loudly about the how boring and full of dust Remus’s books were.

8888888888888888

When they were done, the master bedroom was sparse but homey, with a few conjured band posters on the wall as placeholders, the massive bed, and one of Remus’s empty trunks as a window seat. Remus’s room was full of bookshelves, his cheerful green curtains lending color to a room full of rich browns and tans from the book covers. They’d put a chair next to the window for reading quietly, with a tall, bright lamp. The living room had two easy chairs, one brand new and one handed down from the Weasley family, with a few lamps and end tables beside them, but the middle of the room was completely bare except for the rug in Gryffindor colors that Elodie had bought.

“I  _ know _ you didn’t miss a checklist item,” Remus told her as they all stood near the kitchen looking at the living room. “So, what is the plan?”

“You’re right. I was talking to Albus about the house,” Elodie told him, walking into the living room and leaning over to pick something up. She held it behind her and sidled awkwardly over to the middle of the rug. “I asked if there were any old pieces of furniture that maybe Hogwarts didn’t need anymore, and he told me that when they remodel the common rooms, they don’t get rid of or destroy the old things. They just store them. So…”

She set the miniature down, then turned around and walked over toward Remus and Sirius. Then she cast the enlarging charm.

A large crimson couch appeared on the rug, almost wide enough to seat four adults across and deep enough that Elodie was sure her feet would dangle off of the edge when she sat far enough back. The fabric was rich and velvety, the material held to itself with large circular buttons covered with velvet along the back; the arms looked strong enough to hold being sat on in and of themselves, despite the very front edge fabric being threadbare. It was definitely worn and used in places, especially the center cushion, but by the look on the two wizard’s faces, Elodie knew it was the most perfect addition to their house.

“That’s--” Sirius started to say, then stopped. He walked around behind the couch and traced the back of it with trembling fingers.

“The couch from the Gryffindor Common Room, circa 1977, or so Albus told me.” Elodie bounced up off of her heels a few times in sheer excitement.

Remus walked over and sat on the leftmost side, at first with his hands folded in his lap, then after a minute he turned to face the center cushion and rested his right arm along the top of the couch. Sirius placed one firm hand on the back of the couch and then vaulted over the back of it, landing cross-legged and incredibly smug on the other side from Remus. Elodie could tell this was a trip down memory lane for them.

“Who sat in the middle?” she asked softly.

“James,” Sirius said, his voice rough.

“Or Lily, if she got there first,” Remus corrected him. “More so starting 6th Year.”

“Come sit?” Sirius suggested, patting the cushion in the middle.

“Oh, sure, ask that after listing off the more auspicious previous residents!”

“Sit!” Sirius commanded, pointing at the couch.

She came over and sat. It was actually comfortable, in the way that things that had been built before she was born felt, all solid construction and unhealthy materials. Elodie curled her feet up along the front of the couch and lifted herself up to tuck them underneath her, her favorite way to sit. When she did, a wadded up piece of parchment that had been wedged into the front of the couch came loose.

“I hope that wasn’t someone’s homework,” Elodie joked, leaning over to see where it had landed. 

Remus took out his wand and levitated it up into his hand. He started unfolding it gently, but once it was a few folds from being completely flat, his hand started to shake.

“Remus?” Sirius asked him. Remus didn’t say anything, but his eyes were wide as he looked at the page, now fully unfolded. Sirius scrambled out of his cross-legged position and climbed up to sit on the back of the couch, leaning over Elodie to look.

“Careful, you’re not eleven  _ now _ ,” she told him.

“It’s from James,” Remus announced. Elodie felt a jolt of shock. Remus turned the letter so Sirius could read it, and Elodie leaned back to catch a glimpse, too.

“I remember this!” Sirius said, hoarsely. “She was studying for a big test and tried to rip it up, but Prongs had spelled it imperturbable just to make her angry.”

Remus passed the letter to Sirius, who slid down the couch almost on top of Elodie as he read it. She scooted closer to Remus, but inwardly she rejoiced at the casual, friend-like way Sirius had appropriated her space.

“Right,” Remus said, eagerly. “And she told him that if she couldn’t rip it up or set it on fire, she’d fold it up and hide it until he forgot and then throw it in the lake!”

“But she forgot, instead,” Sirius said, laying the letter out on his lap and smoothing his hand across it. A tiny ripple of magic flew ahead of his hand, as though sealing it safely from anything he could do to hurt it.

“They both did. Merlin,” Remus said.

“It’s genuinely indestructible,” Elodie said, almost reverently. “The only person who could end the spell--”

“Is James,” Sirius said.  _ “Fuck,  _ this hurts.” He picked up the letter and set it on Elodie’s lap before punching the arm of the couch, hard.

Remus didn’t react, only saying to Elodie, “He used to punch it when he got angry at Severus, too.”

“So his hand would have broken before the couch did, you’re saying?” Elodie said wryly. She and Remus jumped as Sirius punched again.

“Absolutely.” Remus nodded. Normally in that kind of a moment, Elodie would picture the various reasons Sirius might have been angry at Snape, but this time she didn’t, because there on her lap was a letter from  _ James Potter _ to  _ Lily Evans. _

 

> Dear Lily,
> 
> Now don’t get stroppy because I used ‘dear,’ because everyone uses ‘dear.’ I would ask you to go with me to Hogsmeade for Halloween, but I don’t think you’ll say yes. So instead, I’m asking what would make you hate me less, so I can work on that. 
> 
> This is me trying, okay?
> 
> If  _ you _ would like to try being nicer to  _ me, _ you could come to our Quidditch match next time. It’s against Ravenclaw.
> 
> Love (because everyone puts ‘love,’ so don’t get hexy at me),
> 
> James

 

“I wonder how long the letter stayed in the couch before it moved to storage?” Elodie said.

“Might have been Christmas in ‘76. I probably used to have pictures, but they’re long gone,” Sirius said darkly. He shook his hand, which was now red and slightly swollen.

“I haven’t learned any medical spells yet,” Elodie said, feeling guilty as she looked at Sirius.

“What do they  _ teach _ you in American magic schools?!” he asked, wagging his eyebrows in mock outrage.

“Stop, it’s a whole… memory thing, I’ll explain someday. Remus?”

“Hmm?” Remus said, looking over apologetically. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Medical spells. I don’t know any, and--” Elodie reached out and almost touched Sirius’s hand, but pulled back before she let herself.

“He’s not helpless, but if he wants me to?” Remus lifted his wand and an eyebrow in a question for Sirius.

“Go on, I thought the pain would help, but it doesn’t,” he got as a reply. Elodie stood up to get out of the way, and headed into the kitchen to put on the kettle for tea.

The tea mugs were all out on the counter, still, and she looked at the assortment and tried to decide which one she was going to claim as ‘hers.’ They came from the Weasleys and Hogwarts, as Dumbledore had brought her a box of odds and ends he thought they could use, as well as the couch. There was at least one with the designs from each House, and Elodie couldn’t help but smile at the thought that she might get to entertain visitors someday, pleasing them with a cup from their own House.

“Though, if I do plan on that, I’ll need probably about twenty more Gryffindor mugs,” she said, aloud.

“Gryffindor mugs?” Remus asked from the doorway.

“Oh, I was just thinking, thanks to Albus’s donations here, I could hand a Ravenclaw visitor a Ravenclaw mug--but I think most of the people I even know  _ of _ are Gryffindors,” Elodie explained. Then, she really looked at his face, and came over to him.

“I think I need to take a walk,” Remus told her.

“I totally value your privacy--I didn’t say, before, but if you  _ ever _ need time alone, you can either tell me--tell us, that is, or we’ll work out some sort of sign for your door,” Elodie said to Remus with as much care and concern as she could.

“Hence, the room to myself,” Remus suggested. When she nodded, he closed his eyes for a second, and sighed. “I really mishandled that. It was unjust of me, and I  _ am _ sorry.”

“If I hadn’t have been so certain I’d get shit from you and anyone else who found out what my plans were, I wouldn’t have been so uptight about it when you did, indeed, give me shit. You’re forgiven, I promise.”

“Sit with Sirius, while I’m gone?” he asked her tentatively.

“I will. Leave some of your soul uneaten, for the walk back home?” she asked in return, pushing her voice into the realm of flippant, for the sake of not nagging.

“As Helen Keller said, ‘Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened,’” Remus told her. Then he turned to walk out of the kitchen, toward the front door.

“You must have a soul of steel, my friend,” she called out after him.

“Ha!” he replied, then, “I’ll be back,” to Sirius.

Elodie turned back to the tea mugs, putting all but four of them away. Just as she was about to call Sirius over to pick one, the kettle whistled.

“I think you’re well on your way to being assimilated,” Sirius said, coming up behind her. “The first sight of anguish and you’re off to make tea.”

“How’s the hand?” she asked. Before he could answer, she picked up two mugs, one with a Gryffindor argyle design, and one with a some words on it that looked decorative. She held them up for Sirius to pick one.

“It’s good as new. Remus is pretty good at healing charms, which is not that surprising, I guess,” Sirius said. He grabbed the mug that didn’t have the Gryffindor colors on it, held it up, and laughed. “Definitely this one. I bet it’s  _ not _ from Hogwarts, either, look:”

The mug that Sirius held up said, ‘Save a broom--ride a Quidditch player.’

“Oh, of all the-- here, make your own tea,” Elodie said. She wasn’t angry at all, but she pretended to be affronted, pouring milk and sugar into her own mug and stirring it while tutting at him. She walked back out into the living room and cast a household charm she’d looked up the week before, a coaster charm to protect the end table. Then she curled up in the seat Remus had left. Instead of sitting on the far end of the couch, Sirius came over with his tea and sat next to her. He cast his own charm, one that conjured a floating ‘sticky’ tile to place his tea on.

“Show off?” Elodie asked, nodding to his tea.

“Nah, just…  _ Merlin, _ I missed having a reason to use bullshitty little charms like this.  _ Thank you.” _ He had a look of deep sincerity in his grey eyes that told her he was profoundly grateful. It was humbling.

“You’re welcome, truly. I’m delighted to get to have a hand in keeping you safe.”

Sirius stretched out as far as he could, both ways, leading to a position where his legs were straight out and hanging from the couch, and his arms were angled up over the back, with his torso and pelvis arched up between them. “Ahhhhhhh,” he said, before going limp and flopping back onto the cushion. “I think this might be the first time in over a decade I look forward to sleeping for the sake of the sleep and not the oblivion of it.”

Elodie’s position curled up on the couch was already facing him, and she couldn’t stop the look of horror on her face at the past life Sirius was implying.

He took one look at her expression and, unexpectedly, burst out into his barking laughter. “Shit, that is wretched, isn’t it?”

“Profoundly, yes,” Elodie said, her eyebrows still arching skyward even though she could feel herself cracking up.

“What about you? What won’t you miss from the past ten plus years of your life?” he asked, sipping his tea. The cup remained lodged onto his floating tile, but he sipped from it anyway, the tile covering his face with each tip of the cup.

“Well. Zero magic, for one, but if you’re looking for specifics…”

“Mark that down for a more in depth explanation, later,” Sirius said, looking interested. “I mean, I know the bare bones version, thanks to Remus, but--”

“Will do,” she said. It took a while to pick out a single issue she could call a true answer to Sirius’s question. “Gravity. I was so sick of having to crawl around on my hands and knees looking for something I accidentally dropped. I swear to God  _ Accio _ is the best thing ever invented,” she finally said.

He started to laugh again, but with less gusto and more commiseration. “I can see that, definitely. I feel like if I personally were cursed to forget all magic, the lack of  _ Accio _ would break the spell immediately.”

“Right?!” she said. “I was thinking as I packed up the Wolfsbane supplies that there needs to be a pre-emptive spell you can cast that just catches and hovers anything from falling in a certain radius from where you’re standing. There probably is, too, I probably just haven’t heard of it.”

“Someone invented it and is keeping it to themselves until they figure out how to make money,” he suggested, taking another face-covering sip. “So, you asked about Moony?”

The subject change was so abrupt, and her memories from the full moon night so vivid that Elodie had no chance of stopping the full-face blush that resulted from hearing the name of Remus’s wolf alter ego. She nodded, wishing she had her own floating cup tile to cover her face with.

“Get a chance to ask him how many punches?”

“One. Thank  _ God, _ or Merlin, or both,” she said, covering her burning face with both hands.

“This is a story I need to hear now, I command it as a privilege of being housemates,” Sirius demanded, clapping his hands together a few times.

“Do you agree that this is a thing of which we will never speak, to him?” Elodie asked with gritted teeth and a threatening expression.

“Hand to… err, God,” Sirius said, holding up his left hand. Elodie almost giggled at his attempt at Muggleness.

“Close enough. I went to ask Remus… something, because I had remembered that--wait, I’m starting in the middle,” she said, kermit flailing her hands in front of her face. “Let me start over. When I started the Wolfsbane, it wasn’t going to be ready in time for the July full moon. I found out about and cast a spell that accelerated the timing, but it was the kind of spell that has a risk and a penalty.”

“I’ve heard of those. Using reagents like virgin’s tears or life expectancy.”

“Exactly. Mine used life expectancy. The terms were just to remain within 200 yards of the potion until the final phase. I didn’t anticipate there being any issues,” she told him. She started twisting the fabric of her pant leg in her fingers as she started to explain the rest of her story. “Then we got word that my mother was sick.”

“In America?” Sirius asked, looking concerned. He brushed his black, shaggy hair back from his forehead with both hands.

Elodie nodded sadly. “I had to confess to Albus about what I’d done. I dodged having to tell Remus, but in the end, it didn’t matter.” She paused and closed her eyes, picturing her mom’s photograph, remembering the way she was so excited to visit touristy places, never losing her joy in the face of bad weather or unexpected delays. She was conscious of Sirius waiting beside her, and she wasn’t sure how to tell him what had happened, except in a rush. “She died. Dragon Pox. She wasn’t alone, Dumbledore had gone to be with her, so she wasn’t alone, at least. I--”

Sirius’s arm slid around her, as natural as if he’d known her for years. “You can cry, I won’t get strange on you,” he said, his other hand gently pressing her head against his chest. Then rested his chin on her her forehead.

Elodie’s shoulders shook, but it was with laughter. Mostly. “Thank you,” she said. Losing my mom was surreal. In the Muggle memories you heard about, I’d lost her once already--I’d  _ mourned _ her once already.”

“Like a take back,” he said, a troubled look on his face. “I hate those.”

She nodded. “It was later that month, on the full moon, that Remus realized the connection; Wolfsbane takes longer than a month to brew. I’d been vague about the penalty clause, so he knew about the location restraint. He came to talk to me, his eyes almost glowing golden.”

Sirius lifted his head, and she moved her own head back to rest it on the couch beside him, so she could see his face.

“Let me guess. He yelled at you, then Remus didn’t mention it, right?”

“Less yelling, more… noble disappointment,” Elodie told Sirius.

Sirius’s laugh shook both of them. It was a lovely feeling for Elodie, given how much she missed moments exactly like these. Sirius’s arm had slid down to rest across her lower back when she’d moved, but he made no attempt to take it back, and she felt the lonely parts of her soul start filling in.

“It sounds like that is not the encounter you wrote to me about,” he said, once he stopped laughing.

Instead of responding, she focused on the ratty overshirt he was wearing on top of his stained t-shirt. The awful plaid had hidden the fact that most of the buttons were missing, and one of the rew remaining ones was valiantly holding on by a tiny slip of thread. 

“Can I fix this?” she asked, sliding her fingertip over the button gently.

“I have buttons enough to avoid the conversation for the whole evening, if that’s what you’re looking to do,” Sirius told her. She glanced up at him, expecting to see a twinkle in his eyes, or a smile that dared her to contradict him. Instead, his expression was direct, a fully invested kind of look, all intensity focused on her.

“I can multitask,” she whispered, pulling out her wand. After casting the  _ Reparo, _ she toyed with her wand, twisting it in her fingers before looking over again. Sirius had laid his head back along the back of the couch with his face turned to look at her. “The full moon was a few nights ago,” she said. He nodded. “I went to the cellar that the boarding house has set up for werewolf residents.”

“He was outside, because if he can, he loves to stay out as long as possible,” Sirius said.

“I didn’t know that, but yes--and of course, he heard me. And then his behavior was…  _ uncharacteristic, _ we’ll say.” She put her wand down on the arm of the couch and traced it with her finger.

_ “Merlin, _ Elodie, what happened that you’re dancing around it like this?” Sirius said, his voice low and full of concern.

She sat up, partly because she wanted Sirius to move his arm, and partly to escape his scrutiny. Elodie slid her legs down, only to fold one back up under her. “It’s not a big deal, what he did, it was just  _ who _ did it--”

“Elodie.”

“He kissed me. He touched me like we were-- He kissed me. Moony did, I mean. Remus would never--”

Sirius touched her on her shoulder, and then, when she didn’t turn to look at him, he framed her face with his hands, very lightly and carefully. Now, she looked.

“If he hurt you,” Sirius said fervently, his grey eyes almost completely blown black. He didn’t look angry, but he wasn’t fully calm in any sense of the word.

“Moony wouldn’t hurt me.” Elodie was unequivocal.

“Fuck, that’s a lot of confidence there,” Sirius swore, his hands flying out wide, away from her face. “That must have been  _ some _ kiss. I wondered if Remus would ever--”

“No,” Elodie said, laughing with an amount of bitterness that actually shocked her when she heard it coming from her own throat. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“Just because he can’t remember doesn’t mean he’ll shove you away,” Sirius told her.

“I’m certain that’s  _ exactly _ what he’d do,” she said, picking up her tea to sip it as if they were talking about the weather.

“I can tell when a woman doesn’t want to be argued with, but before I allow you to declare victory, I’ll just say that nearly everything Remus fought hard against turned out to be something that made him very happy,” Sirius said, sitting back against the couch and crossing his arms. “Though I can’t speak for the past… shit, thirteen years. Hah.”

Elodie wondered if he was talking about the Animagus transformations Sirius and his friends had taught themselves. She was burning with curiosity about the rest of Sirius’s evidence, but didn’t press him. Instead, she said something she’d been thinking to herself privately for at least the past week.

“If a man wants to fight against something more than he fights  _ for _ it, then at least that lets you know where his heart truly lies, right?” she asked Sirius as she stood up from the couch.

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Sirius said, surprising her. “After all, you’re just seeing the part of the battle he’s showing you. You have no way of knowing what wars he wages inside his own mind.”

Elodie had walked over to the picture window by then, and she looked out, expecting to see the sun hanging low in the summer sky. Sirius had a good point, but she completely forgot all about responding to it as she looked out at the large winged creature settled comfortably inside the fenced area outside. It was clearly only resting there because it wanted to, as it was much larger than a person, with a huge eagle’s head and horse’s haunches. The tiny little fence that surrounded it might as well not have been there at all. It was Buckbeak, of course. Elodie had completely forgotten about him.

“Shit, shit, nobody told you about the--Elodie, I  _ promise  _ you, Buckbeak is a kind and  _ almost _ gentle companion,” Sirius said, practically running over to her.

Instead of being terrified, outraged, or some other appropriate emotion, Elodie just looked over at Sirius and asked him, plaintively, “You ever have a moment when you realize that you’re an adult, even though you probably don’t deserve to be thought of as one, yet?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he replied with conviction.

“I can’t believe I’m really about to say this, but: can we maybe have the hippogriff live somewhere  _ other _ than in my future herb garden?”


	16. Destination: Diagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie wakes up for the first time in her new house to a surprise that leads her to Diagon Alley for some supplies. Once there, she runs into someone who says something concerning, but not before she gets what feels like a lifetime's supply of chocolate wands...

Elodie stretched, remembering at the very last minute that her bed was against the wall, now. When she opened her eyes, the morning sun was shining on the fabric she’d hung against the wall, causing the silver threaded design to shimmer a little. It was gorgeous, and really brought her to the realization that this was her house, her  _ home _ .

She got up and slid the curtain to the side to look in the closet behind. It had been a dark cherry color when she’d first come down and looked at the room she’d decided to sleep in, but changing the color to white had opened up the space more. She decided to throw on a casual outfit instead of what she’d slept in just in case the sight of her in sleep clothes was somehow shocking to either of her housemates, despite the pajamas themselves being shapeless and non revealing. So, once Elodie had put on her blue t shirt and jeans, she slid her curtain back over her closet, cast a quick bed-making spell, and left the laundry room to head upstairs for breakfast.

When she opened the door from the basement into the kitchen, Elodie was surprised to find Remus standing there wearing the kind of outfit she’d expect someone to put on if they were heading to court, or something.

“Uhh, Remus?” Elodie said, unable to stop herself from looking him up and down. Little details kept becoming more obvious, like the fact that he had a newly folded handkerchief in his left pocket, and how she could see actual comb-marks in his damp hair.

“I’m starting to feel scrutinized,” Remus remarked as he leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped his tea. Elodie could see the outline of a white undershirt under his dress shirt. This was the detail that pushed her to say something.

“You--” Elodie swallowed her laugh, realizing almost too late that the dear thing might be genuinely  _ serious _ about his outfit. “You  _ do  _ know you’re allowed to wear whatever you want in your own house, right? Did--did Molly  _ threaten _ you?”

Remus’s ears turned bright red, and she could see the stain of his blush starting to creep up his neck.

“I’m telling you right now, there is nothing about living in the same house as me that should make you decide it’s important to wear  _ shoes  _ to breakfast, okay?”

“I wouldn’t say  _ threatened,” _ Remus finally said.

“That’s it--do you think the Weasley household is awake yet?” Elodie said, whipping her wand out and starting to stomp into the living room.

“Wait! Stop. No,” Remus called out after her. He grabbed her arm a second later.

“You don’t even  _ need _ werewolf reflexes today,” Elodie said admiringly. “You’ve got the traction on your dress shoes for that.”

“All right, yes, I overdid it, thank you for noticing,” Remus said, his voice a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. “Molly Weasley is somewhat frightening.”

“To a certain extent, I’m not complaining,” Elodie said, looking first at his hand grasping her arm in a gentle but firm grip, then looking at the rest of his body with frank appraisal, head to toe. “You look really good all dressed up like this. I think Molly’s plan completely backfired.”

Remus let her go so quickly that she almost fell over sideways. Elodie took the opportunity to slide over into his chair, covering her mouth with one hand to laugh. 

“I guess I should have expected that!” she giggled at him.

“I feel like I should apologize, but I’m fairly sure you used my instincts against me, there,” Remus said, frowning at her good naturedly.

“We need to work on your people skills if you go around letting go of any women who compliment you,” Elodie said, getting up again.

Remus was still frowning when she said that, and instead of responding, he turned to walk back into the kitchen. At the doorway he stopped, still facing away from her, then turned his head to the side and said, “You aren’t just any woman, Elodie, you know that.” Then, he continued through the doorway.

Elodie stood stock still and tried to hinge her jaw back together.

“I really don’t know that, Remus,” she called out. “At all!” Silence greeted her, which was odd for only one reason, and that reason’s name was Sirius Black. Even though what Remus had said thrilled and confused her, and she really wanted to chase him down and make him explain himself, the absence of their other housemate made her wonder something.

“Remus, is there any chance that Molly was able to Owl the same threats to Sirius, and that’s why he’s still in his room?” she said, popping her head into the kitchen. 

“Equally possible that he’s asleep,” Remus said around a bite of the chocolate bread Winnifred had sent with them.

“While yes, that might be why, I can’t help but think he’s in there wearing whatever he’s got, he’s hungry, and--oh my God, Remus, he doesn’t have very many clothes at  _ all!” _ She turned to look across the living room at the tiny hallway. “How would he even be able to get any, except stealing them, I guess? Do you think he had to steal all his clothes? Wait--don’t answer that,” Elodie said, holding a hand up to signal Remus not to speak, even though he definitely hadn’t opened his mouth to answer her. “He’s innocent of murder, but does stealing clothes get you thrown in Azkaban? I mean, he wouldn’t be able to borrow any of yours, either. I guess he  _ could, _ but I’d rather get him new ones, and it’s not like you probably have an abundance of extra clothes you’d--”

“Do I even need to be here for this conversation?” Remus interrupted with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“No,” Elodie said sullenly. Then, she brightened. “I’m going to go out right now and buy him some clothes. Do you know what size he is? I mean, I could probably just buy whatever and he could alter them, but it’s still nicer if--”

Remus’s raised eyebrows told her she was rambling again.

“You’re right. I could just ask,” Elodie said, walking with purpose through the doorway into the living room, then to the mouth of the tiny hallway. “Sirius! What are your measurements?” she hollered.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’d fit together just fine!” was Sirius’s shocking response.

A slamming sound in the kitchen told Elodie that Remus had heard his friend’s comment. Seconds later, Remus pushed past her into the hallway and aimed his wand at Sirius’s door. Even though he hadn’t said anything, a puff of sawdust plumed out from around the doorknob, and Remus shoved the door open.

_ He used a nonverbal spell! He must be really angry, _ Elodie thought to herself in surprise.

Before Remus started in on his disapproval to Sirius, he leaned his head out of the room and said to Elodie, “Go ahead and buy him some clothes. I’m certain he’ll still fit into them when you come back.”

“I really wasn’t that offended,” Elodie said, but Remus’s expression all but told her that  _ he _ was, and that was still important enough for the coming confrontation. “All right, well. You boys have fun,” she drawled theatrically. Then she started toward the door to the basement where her change purse was.

There was a loud ‘crack’ sound and then Sirius was standing beside the couch. He was wrapped head to toe in his red quilt.

“I just want to say, I would have made that ‘fit together’ comment no matter  _ which _ one of my housemates asked about measurements,” he remarked, falling onto the couch in a pile of limbs and blanket. He sounded as if they’d already been having a long conversation of which this was only a part. “If you could kindly explain that to Remus, in about two seconds?”

As if summoned, Remus came out of the hallway, a thunderous expression on his face.

“Sirius says he’d have propositioned you, if you’d asked the same question,” Elodie told him. “He thinks that’ll make you feel better, I think?”

“It does, actually,” Remus said, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Sirius, can you just--”

“Dial it back? The  _ me, _ I mean?” Sirius asked, jovially. “I can  _ try?” _

“It probably wouldn’t help for me to say I don’t mind comments like that?” Elodie offered. Remus looked at her with a put-upon expression. “I don’t! He’s not serious--he’s not  _ genuinely _ hitting on me,” she explained, glaring at Sirius when she’d had to alter her terminology.

Sirius slid his arms out of his blanket cocoon and folded them behind his head, leaving a gap from that showed quite a lot of his bare chest. “Trust me, Remus--she’ll know when I’m genuinely hitting on her.”

“‘When?’” Remus and Elodie both objected.

“There’s only so much ‘me’ I can repress!”

Both Elodie and Sirius looked over at Remus, whose face cycled through a myriad of emotions, only some of which were recognizable to Elodie. Finally, he walked over and held his hand out to Sirius, who pulled his wand out as if to hand it to Remus.

“No, I wasn’t demanding your wand--though, I’m honored you would even think to let me touch it. I was--”

Sirius stood up, remembering at the very last minute to grab his blanket as it slid off of his body. Then, he threw his arms around Remus in a bear hug.

“I’m starting to learn that our housemate does not do anything by halves,” Elodie said to Remus. Too bad I don’t have a camera! That blanket is not long for this world, I think.”

Elodie turned back to the fireplace, and had a realization. She’d asked Remus once about how witches and wizards ended up telling each other they wanted to come by for a visit, and he’d looked confused, and said they called the Floo. Now faced with that idea, she was more than a little nervous, but she didn’t want to let on to either of the men she now lived with. The last time Remus had ‘helped’ her with the Floo, she’d been pretty frazzled with the result, even if it had been useful in the end.

She knelt, threw a pinch of Floo powder in, stated the Weasley address, and stuck just her head in the fireplace.

It was… not terrible. The powder acted as a kind of insulator, and even though she was uncomfortable as heck, the strangest part was seeing the Weasley’s room and knowing from her experience with the books that she’d be heard.

“Hello, Molly?” Elodie called out.

“Oh! Well, hello Elodie,” Molly said. She didn’t seem terribly shocked or surprised.

“This is probably a stretch, but can I come over? I need to ask you about something I think you’ll know loads about,” she told Molly.

“Love to, dear, see you soon!”

Elodie retreated from the fireplace and sat back on her heels. She was afraid to shake her head, thinking it’d be full of fireplace ash. She stood up, looking around the living room for Sirius. Since she didn’t see him, she walked over to his bedroom and tapped on the door, which opened, thanks to Remus’s angry destruction of the latch.

“Yes, Remus, I’m wearing clothes, honestly, unclench,” Sirius grumped, not turning around. The part that made Elodie laugh was that he was only loosely telling the truth. He was wearing a pair of jeans so tight they might as well have been painted on, no shirt, and no socks.

“I don’t know that I’d qualify that as ‘dressed,’ but it’s less awkward than Mr. Counsel for the Prosecution back there, somehow,” Elodie said. Sirius jumped. “I’m sorry, I did knock, but the door cracked open,” she said.

“It’s fine, any exercise is good exercise, I guess,” he said, tapping one hand against his bare chest, over his heart. “Need something?”

“Clothes. I am heading out to buy you some. Any requests?”

“Black. Nothing prissy. If you have to ask yourself if I’d wear it, the answer’s probably no,” he told her. “Size-wise, I used to wear smalls, if I could get away with it. Medium, if you think I should have a healthy blood supply. Thanks,” he added, smiling cheekily.

“All right, see you later, hopefully with a wardrobe that would make an emo kid sob with conflicted delight,” she said, running back toward the living room.

88888888888888888

Molly had been very helpful. She told Elodie that she was right, male clothing was easier to buy and alter magically. After explaining some of the limitations of magical male alterations, Molly told Elodie the addresses and approximate locations of two thrift stores in Diagon Alley, one of which was actually in Knockturn, which had shocked Elodie a bit.

Being alone in Diagon Alley was very different than being there with Remus. For one thing, with the exception of a few mothers and very young children, there were no young people milling around at all, probably because Hogwarts was now in session. For another thing, there were fewer adults, too, so the overall effect of the space felt almost like a movie set, instead of an actual real life place. Lastly, she didn’t feel like she had any real timetable for the visit at all.

So naturally, Elodie headed for the sweets shop.

She had walked inside and stood just inside the door to the side and looked and looked until she realized what the problem was. Nothing looked  _ real! _ It looked like someone had made gummy and play d’oh models and packaged them up, not like they were genuine, buyable objects, but of course they  _ were  _ real. Elodie walked up to a display and then held up one finger (to no one, as no one was watching, which was just as well), turned to pick up a basket, then went back to the same display. She chose one package of Chocolate Frogs.

“Okay, how pissed will I be if I open it and one hops out of reach?” she asked herself in her school teacher voice.

Elodie chose three packages of Chocolate Frogs.

Then, she thought about how much Remus loved chocolate, and how Sirius probably hadn’t had any Chocolate Frogs since possibly Hogwarts, or slightly after.

Elodie chose six more packages of Chocolate Frogs.

She moved on and looked at some of the other options. She started narrowing down her options by the things she didn’t want, at first: no Sugar Quills (she assumed this was more of a thing for people who grew up using quills to write), no Acid Pops (she didn’t even want to know what was in them, frankly), and no Cockroach Clusters (NOPE). After that, certain things looked more interesting, and she placed a number of sweets in her basket, some of which she assumed she would be sharing with Remus and Sirius. At the counter, she bought three packages of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Six Cauldron Cakes, four Peppermint Toads, one package of Pink Coconut Ice, and she didn’t even count the how many Chocolate Wands, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d numbered at least twenty.

The best part of the purchase was the way the shopkeeper didn’t even bat an eye.

When Elodie left, she stood and watched the Gringotts building a bit. It was striking--the books’ description didn’t do it justice when it came to the color. The white was the kind of color that seemed to leech the life force out of anything that came into its proximity, even you, while you looked at it. She wondered if some of that was related to the multitude of spells and wards and curses that were built into and cast around it. She didn’t have a digital camera back in her own time, but she wished she had one now, just to see what the result of a picture of it would look like.

Elodie crunched down on the remnant of her Cauliflower Every Flavour Bean. She didn’t have to wait for the invention of a digital camera--she could buy a wizarding camera! If she could afford one, of course. She sat down on the steps of a closed shop and took out her change purse, opening it to find that there was more money in it than she’d thought was there, that morning. When she had paid for her sweets, she’d just stuck two fingers in and pulled out the small pile of coins they had cost. Now, what had been hidden by some of those coins was visible.

A note.

 

> Elodie,
> 
> Here is some money for clothes. I’ll get Sirius to reimburse me, so stop frowning at the letter. I doubt you asked him for money anyway, and I very much doubt you wanted to find out where he keeps it.
> 
> See you later today,
> 
> Remus
> 
>  

Elodie smiled down at the letter and hoped to hell she hadn’t spent everything he put inside on candy. She didn’t think so, though, because she still saw many more of the larger coins than she’d thought she had. When she got up, she looked at the shops nearby, one of which was named Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment, and decided to check it for a camera.

A half hour later, Elodie Merriman was in possession of a magical camera. It was far smaller than she’d imagined, but not the polaroid version she had been hoping for. The part that made the photographs magical, she’d found out, was from the development process, which could be tricky. The trickiness had to do with the potion they were developed in, and on hearing this, Elodie felt an odd kind of relief, even though she wasn’t Mellie. The months of September and October, she’d decided, were to be used on catching up to at least some of the schooling she’d have had on potions. Now that she had a place to brew that didn’t feel so impermanent, she could take Slughorn up on his tutoring offer. So when she heard that she’d need to buy or create a particular potion to develop pictures from the cheaper style camera, she was sure that was the one she wanted.

The manual was pretty straightforward, and Elodie went into the Leaky Cauldron and ordered a butterbeer. She grabbed one of the chocolate wands she’d bought and bit off the tip of it as she read about her new device. There was a specific spell that you could cast to hover the camera at your head height, for group photos, and a wandless spell that went with it to depress the trigger to take the actual picture. Those two things were the most interesting to Elodie, as she’d wondered how things like that were achieved without electronics. The booklet had an abbreviated section in the back about the potion to buy to develop the pictures, and the correct procedure, as well as the name of a company that you could Owl the film cartridges to if you weren’t up to trying to develop them yourself.

Elodie knew she needed to start actually looking in the thrift stores she’d planned to visit, since that was ostensibly why she was in Diagon in the first place, but the clock in the Leaky said it was 9:00 in the morning, so she gave herself permission for one more self indulgent errand. She headed for the Apothecary store to buy the potion for photo development. The plan was to see what the potion was  _ meant _ to look like, so that when she tried brewing it, there was a clear goal to visualize.

The store itself was a tad brighter inside than she’d expected, but the open trays and hanging racks of odd and frightening ingredients were still there from the description in the book. Elodie wondered if there was a magical regulation bureau for potions ingredients after she saw something labeled ‘Powdered Were-Rhino Horn, Very Rare.’

“That’s just the ‘street’ name for it, mind you,” a male voice called out from the back of the store. Elodie looked around for its owner and didn’t see anyone. “S’actually Rhino horn mixed with rabbit’s blood. Works the same.”

“I am paying to have your advice and attention on  _ me!” _

This came from another male voice, and Elodie again tried to see where they were coming from, but a large display of claws from a variety of different creatures was blocking her view. She was intensely curious, but also didn’t want an angry fellow customer’s ire on  _ her _ instead, so Elodie grabbed a few baggies of ingredients for Wolfsbane, before she went up to the front.

Beside the short, bald shopkeeper wearing an apron was a tall, thin man with thick shoulder length hair. He was faced away from Elodie and leaning over with his left arm on the counter, palm up, fingers curled into a fist. His other hand was also fisted, faced down as though punching the counter as the man hissed angry whispers at the shopkeeper. For his part, the shopkeeper looked nervous and out of his depth, and Elodie tried to shoot him a sympathetic look as she sidled past them to look at the wall of pre-made potions.  Elodie searched the wall for the potion she needed with one ear turned toward the counter, for curiosity’s sake.

“--something to cure a bad magical burn, sir, but it sounds like you should go to St. Mun--”

“Perhaps you simply don’t know what you are doing? Bah.” 

The angry customer must have slammed his fist against the counter, as there was a loud thump accompanied by simultaneous glass clinking noises, as if the counter’s vibration after being struck had caused some of the bottles on it to knock together. Seconds later, the shop door slammed.

Her potion and other supplies in hand, Elodie walked quickly over to the counter. She hoped that there hadn’t been any violence against the man working! She’d seen the way he’d looked fearfully at the customer, and hated the idea of someone dreading something only for it to come to pass, even if it was as simple and straightforward as an angry reaction from a disgruntled shopper.

“Just those, then?” the man whispered, then cleared his throat. He looked upset at himself, and Elodie felt compelled to try to soothe him in some way.

“It doesn’t sound like you even carry whatever it was he needed,” she remarked. “It’s not any of my business, though.”

“Something about an old magical wound, but all I saw was a tiny bit of redness,” the clerk said, sounding a bit more confident. “I told him it looked like it was healing nicely, and he almost screamed at me that it was coming back. He was implying the healing was being reversed somehow.”

“Like it had healed, and then was un-healing?” she asked him, handing off the last baggie to be weighed.

“As soon as he said that, I told him he should go straight to St. Mungos, but that made him even more angry! Didn’t even let me finish the sentence.”

“Unwanted advice gets the same reaction as bad advice sometimes,” Elodie told the man. “Can I ask you--does this need to be kept in the dark? It’s not dark  _ here, _ but there’s a label on it.” She held out the thick parchment tag that said, ‘keep dim.’

“Ahh, yes. That supplier loves their ornate packaging, and they like to sound mysterious,” the man said, wiggling his fingers and changing his voice to a lower timbre on the last word, before laughing. “It’s a recommendation, but since we hardly ever get such nice sunshine in the store reaching all the way back like today, we generally don’t keep it elsewhere. If we do that, the customers can’t find it, and buy it somewhere else, thinking we don’t have any!”

“Oh, I totally understand,” Elodie said. A thought occurred to her, and she said, “Give me a sec? I think I might have an idea for you.”

She left her purchases at the counter and went back to the potion wall. As she’d remembered, the bottles were in more ‘themed’ order than alphabetical, which meant that the location of the Pellicularum Potion could be shifted without too much confusion. Elodie turned to go back to the counter, but the shopkeeper had followed her.

“I was noticing the angle of the sun here, see? It juuuust barely reaches back here, but it’s early morning. I think the display up there is high enough to block the lowest shelf, so if you move it down just a smidge--”

“That’s a really good idea! Thank you,” the man said, looking genuinely pleased. They both walked back toward the counter, and the clerk took out a parchment roll and a quill and started making notes for the change she’d suggested.

“Thanks for the supplies,” Elodie told him, gathering them up and tucking them into the camera bag, which was bigger and sturdier.

“Wait, here, I’ve got a number of these as leftovers, from the supplier for some of the more popular potions. No one ever seems to buy them, so we’ve decided to give them out as incentives for the larger purchases.” the shopkeeper said, his head dipping back behind his counter. When he came back up, he had a teardrop-shaped bottle no larger than her thumb. “I think helping us keep a product handy without being ruined by the conditions in the shop counts as deserving an incentive, so: here. Draught of Peace.”

“Oh, wow, thank you,” Elodie said, lifting the glass bottle carefully and holding it up. It was a lovely cloudy pearl color, and it made her think of fluffy clouds or a warm off-white knitted blanket. “May you have a day filled with pleasant customers from now on!” she told him.

Elodie took out her wand and cast an imperturbable charm on the potion, then set it inside the bag with her other objects. After a second, she fished out the Pellicularum Potion and did the same. Then, she went looking for Head to Toes, the clothing resale store Molly had suggested.

It was a complete hoot. The music playing was a jaunty, goofy sort of tune that Elodie usually would have hated listening to, but the bright colors of the clothing on the shelves and the oranges and yellows on the walls lent the place a cheerful, happy vibe. She started to wonder if they even sold black clothes, but when she found the men’s section, there were plenty of black items scattered throughout. She found three black pairs of jeans that looked like they’d fit Sirius, all mediums, since he could always shrink them down if he felt it necessary. Then, she placed a pair of black dress pants in the cart and tried not to imagine he’d wear it to Tonks and Lupin’s wedding, if they could manage to get his name cleared. After that, she grabbed a pair of bluejeans that had some rips in them; for some reason they just screamed ‘Sirius Black’ to her.

When she moved on to shirts, it was really hard for her to ignore all of the fun-looking shirt options that weren’t black. She ended up finding quite a few black ones, though, even a few with long sleeves. A search for band shirts resulted in two Weird Sisters shirts in black, one that looked like it was fan-made and had each of the male band members pictured as if they were cats. If Sirius didn’t wear it, Elodie reasoned,  _ she _ would. She looked at a black Pink Floyd  _ The Wall _ shirt for a long time before also stuffing it in the cart. Before moving out of the section, she counted: four plain black in a couple of different styles (one of which had a deep v-neck that she just  _ knew  _ he’d wear), three band shirts, and two long-sleeved pullovers in t-shirt material. Walking past the button-downs netted Sirius two plaid shirts, one in shades of black and grey, and one in gold and crimson.

Elodie was standing still and counting up what her total might be when she looked beside her and saw a whole rack of Remus’s favorite khaki trousers, opposite about 10 hangers’ worth of the button-down knitted vests she’d seen him wear on many occasions. With a grimace of, ‘I totally shouldn’t be doing this’ on her face, Elodie went looking at the vests, and picked out one that was in heathered greys and greens with a pop of gold. She ignored the trousers, though, guessing that if she showed up with something unremarkable, Remus might question why she thought she had the right to buy his clothing.

She did a disciplined circuit of the women’s clothes and didn’t see anything she couldn’t live without--and then went back to the men’s section and picked up the oversized plaid shirt in greens and blues that she had really wanted to get.

The total wasn’t as bad as she’d counted up; some of the tags had different colors, and one of those colors was half off. It had felt like Elodie had spent half a day in there to her, but when she got outside and looked for a clock, the time said 10:05. Now Elodie placed her camera bag with the potions and supplies inside the deep thrift store bag, and shouldered it as she headed for the beginning of Knockturn Alley. She’d written down the name of the thrift store Molly had recommended, but thought she’d look around a bit before she pulled it out.

Elodie had her camera in her hand, as she’d taken a picture of Gringotts in hopes that the glory of the place might show up better in a magically developed picture. The front of Borgin and Burkes had a strangely compelling green glow to it that had her lifting her camera again. On an impulse, she went inside, thinking she’d see if the vanishing cabinet was there, years before it would be used to infiltrate Hogwarts. She wanted to take a picture of it, if she could, to see if its counterpart in the Room of Requirement was an exact match. As she walked in through the doorway and felt the chill of danger all around her, she heard a voice she had heard before.

“--been to two of the apothecaries already. You were there, you  _ know!  _ The Dark Lord--,” the voice was pleading in a low, urgent tone, but as soon as he said the phrase ‘Dark Lord,’ there was a hissing, angry sound from the second man, and the first man’s voice went quiet.

Elodie’s heart pounded. With those two words, the strange encounter with the man had become far more meaningful and terrifying. He’d gone from a desperate stranger to a menacing figure who might well be a Death Eater. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the importance of his actions in the Apothecary. He’d laid his left arm down on the counter and demanded to know if there was something that could be done! She’d even looked at his arm and seen practically nothing--just some redness in an oblong splotch that seemed to carry zero weight of importance to her whatsoever. Except now, it did.

He’d been worried about his  _ Dark Mark. _

Now, Elodie was determined to capture an image of him with her camera. She lifted it and crept forward a few steps until she realized something fundamental about her situation. There she was, an American witch with a camera. Why bother creeping around at all, when she could rely on a tourist stereotype? She took a deep breath and started walking again, this time with her camera up to her face, looking through it. In it, she saw two figures ahead of her, one taller than the other, with the shorter one faced away.

As she got closer, the taller man thrust his left arm practically in the shorter man’s face, and with her heart in her throat, Elodie took a picture. When the shorter man backed away, Elodie took a picture, then, she wheeled around and aimed her camera at the ceiling, which was hung with all manner of creepy and disturbing skeletons. She took a picture.

“What do you think you are  _ doing?! _ ” an imperious voice demanded, and after a second, Elodie’s arm was roughly grabbed. She steeled herself against her fear and thought about a brash New York stereotype. In that moment, Elodie Merriman probably had more positive, life-saving thoughts about Fran Drescher than anyone else in the entire world could have.

“Woah, woah, now, hands off, thank you,” Elodie said in as obviously American a voice as she could manage when startled and a little frightened. It came out as a bit New York, a bit 1940’s stage voice. She tugged at her arm and the man released her, probably too surprised by her unexpected accent to hold on.

Unfortunately the next thing he did was reach for her camera.

Elodie lifted it up and snapped a quick picture, hoping to knock him off-balance again.

“Now there’s no call to be reaching for my stuff, you could try  _ talking _ to me, there’s an idea,” she drawled out, stuffing her camera in the bag she was carrying as though she was afraid he’d try to steal it.

“What in Merlin’s name are YOU doing in here?”

“Well I’m visiting, I bet you can’t guess where  _ from,” _ she said in a teasing voice. “And I have to tell you, I’m just fascinated by, well, the  _ Dark Arts,” _ she said in a deliberately abominable stage whisper. “So I had to come here to poke around, you understand. But I get it, I’m kinda flashy, and this stuff is probably ALL on the down low.” She spun around a bit and held her hand out, gesturing to the shelves.

The angry, stoop-shouldered man just stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say to her. From behind him, the angry tall man with the arm problem came walking toward her, and the look on his face was quite threatening. In the seconds it took for him to reach her, Elodie must have run through at least ten different defensive spells in her head, her hand poised to grab her wand.

When the man made it all the way over to her, though, his demeanor changed completely. He smiled, but the smile seemed off in some strange way. “A tourist! Honestly this area is not that interesting, I’m sorry to say.” He held out his right arm with a broad, generous-seeming hand gesture, pointing to the door. “I will let you in on a bit of a secret, though: the Goblins. They  _ love _ America, all that greed, it calls to them. I tell you, go into Gringotts and try to shake their hands, you will get  _ such _ a response!”

Elodie allowed him to shepherd her toward the door, any icicle of fear striking through her at the way his blue eyes seemed so harsh despite his congenial tone and behavior. It was extremely unnerving, and instinctively, she knew she was right about the Dark Mark. Right before they got to the door, she whipped out her camera and aimed it, selfie-style, at herself and the man, casting the wandless spell to take the picture as quickly as she could.

“There, I’ve got us for posterity, then! I appreciate the help. Maybe you’ll come by New York sometime, it’s so  _ busy _ there, you and your long legs will fit in just fabulous!” She turned her head to look up at him in a way that made her instantly uncomfortable--her neck was far too exposed. That sense of danger, though, felt like it was only being held at bay by her eccentric and outrageous behavior, so she tried to cling to that. She held his icy blue gaze for a few seconds.

“Get out,” he said roughly.

_ “That’s _ the spirit,” she forced herself to say gaily. Then, she held her bag close to her chest and started walking away as quickly as possible, her heartbeat rattling along at such a fast pace that she could feel her body heat rise in response.  _ Everything _ about that entire encounter had been terrifying.

Elodie skipped the thrift store and did actually walk over to Gringotts and go inside. She stopped just in the doorway and pressed a hand against her wildly beating heart. She wondered if she should just see if the bank had a Floo that she could just go home from, thus giving whoever that was the impression that she’d been indefinitely detained by an angry Goblin. Goblins were opportunistic, though, and she wouldn’t put it past them to keep a record of every single time a guest in their bank activated the Floo, and from which address. That was scrutiny that their precarious little household could not afford.

When she turned to leave, a creature whose best description, even on a good day, had to be ‘thug’ walked up to her and held out a hand. He looked like a cross between a giant and a goblin, with all of the ugliest parts preserved in his DNA.

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“I thought if I came in here, the creepy guy following me might take one look at you and run away screaming?” Elodie blurted out, wide-eyed.

The creature chuckled. “He would. Take care,” he grunted at her, and walked back to the hidden alcove beside the doorway.

“I will,” she promised him, and took a fortifying breath before she walked back out to Diagon Alley. It was almost lunch time, and the crowd around the couple of food carts was thick, providing exactly the sort of cover she was looking for. Elodie stopped at a food stand and looked at the menu while she waited in line, ordering three corned beef ‘wand-ups,’ which looked to be corned beef, seedy mustard, and a hardy cheese wrapped in fast-rising dough. After a quick spellcast, the whole thing was air fried and jammed onto a stick with a carved looking handle that could pass for a cheap wand. Elodie figured if either Remus or Sirius didn’t want theirs, it would make a good dinner or lunch another time for herself.

Five minutes later, she was through the short line for the Floo in the Leaky Cauldron, and walking out into her own living room.

“I can’t even  _ believe _ I used to live like a Muggle where the food I got as take-out was barely edible by the time I got home! This is still steaming!” she said to herself in the empty room.

“Steaming?” Remus said, walking in with a cup of tea in his hand. The spoon inside it was still spinning, and she could somehow tell it was from a spell, and not simple centrifugal force.

“That smells like… That smells like!”

Sirius came flying out of his bedroom and practically skidded on the floor beside Remus.

“Corned beef wand-ups?” Elodie asked, holding out one.

“Goddess  _ divine!” _ Sirius declared, sliding over to her on both knees to take it. “My absolute favorite!”

Elodie looked over at Remus. “He’s never had one, I’m calling it. No way have they been serving the exact same street food in Diagon Alley for 15 plus years.”

“Haven’t, but it’s fantastic, and I never thought I’d get street food again, so go easy on me,” Sirius said, or at least that’s what she thought he said. His mouth was very full.

“Thank you, you didn’t need to bring anything,” Remus said when she walked over to offer him one.

“Well, you didn’t need to sneak money into my bag to help pay for expenses, but that was appreciated. This is the least I could do,” she told him.

“Mmhmm,” Remus responded. “Book chat day?” he asked, following her into the kitchen where she found herself a plate and a couple of napkins. “That is, after you eat street food like I have to imagine Petunia Dursley would.”

“Ouch,” Elodie said. “Yes, but I want to pop by the library first, and get a book about wizarding cameras. I bought one.”

Remus sat down beside her at the table and looked at her with concern.

“Please remember not to take any accidental pictures here, or if you do, see that you’re the only one who develops them?”

“Because of Sirius,” Elodie confirmed, nodding. “That’s why I need the book, to make sure I don’t screw up the developing part. I am pretty sure I got some intriguing pictures today. Thanks for the reminder about accidental photography subjects.”

“I just want all the surprises Sirius gets for a while are positive ones, like this,” Remus said, getting up and holding the stick where she could see it. “Watch. I have had this before,” he said. Then, he swirled the stick in the air, and a puff of yellow smoke emitted from the very tip of it.

“Oh, cool,” Elodie said.

“It’s also a fortune, based on the color, if I recall correctly,” Remus told her. He looked up at the ceiling for a minute, thinking, before he tapped the wand on the table. “I remember now. Yellow is happiness and loyalty.”

“Well you’ve fulfilled the loyalty just now, in your warning,” Elodie told him. “Does it count if you slide the food off without eating it all the way?”

“Amateur.” Remus walked over to the sink and started washing his hands.

“I think it’s less ‘amateur’ and more, my mouth is just not that big?” she said. She took another bite and, as she’d expected, the rest of the oddly shaped sandwich fell off of the wand, freeing it up for the pretend spellcasting. “Here goes!”

Elodie drew a flourish with the wand, and the tip poured green smoke.

“Growth, wealth, and cunning,” Remus said after thinking a second or two.

“I came into some unexpected funds, this morning,” Elodie joked. “I also had to be a bit clever to keep safe in one of the stores I went to look around in.”

“Which one?”

Elodie mentally facepalmed. “Borgin and Burke’s,” she said, anyway.

At least Remus looked more concerned than anything else, but he did immediately say to her, “Tell me.”

“As you can see, I’m still alive, and I’m 96% certain that my name is not on a scary as fuck list somewhere,” she said. “As for the rest, I think I want to tell Sirius about it, too--and give him his clothes.”

“You don’t need to protect yourself from some kind of reaction I’ll have, Elodie,” Remus said quietly.

“Oh. Oh, I know,” she told him, getting up to clear away her plate and wash her own hands. “It’s not that. It’s hopefully kind of funny, the story, I mean.” She looked up at him, then looked around for a towel for an embarrassingly long time until she remembered she could cast a drying charm. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remus surprised her with his answer, which for once wasn’t typical for him.

“Good,” he said.


	17. Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie explains what happened in Diagon Alley, and the three housemates decide what to do with that information. Then, she and Sirius discuss contingency plans.
> 
> The very end bit of this chapter is, so far, my favorite Remus & Sirius friendship scene ever!

“What did you do?” Sirius asked her bluntly.

Elodie and Sirius were on the couch, and Remus claimed the easy chair across from it as his own. Sirius had found the packages she’d brought home while she was in the kitchen, but she’d thought ahead and cast an Obscure Charm on his clothes bag, which needed her magic to be released.

“I didn’t do anything suspicious, Sirius!” Elodie looked at him and shook her head in utter confusion. Then, he raised his hand, showing her what was dangling from it.

It was the Draught of Peace.

“This, right here. This is how misunderstandings happen,” Elodie said in exasperation. “You shouldn’t have gone looking in my things!”

“You haven’t explained why you have it, though,” Remus pointed out.

“Don’t you think I’d have One: bought enough to dose  _ both _ of you, and Two: hidden them so that I could dose you  _ secretly? _ Unless you think I’m stupid enough to ask you to drink it before I told you a story?” Elodie’s eyebrows, she felt, could have won Dancing With the Stars for the amount of movement they’d done during those sentences.

“All good points...” Sirius said, ending his statement with the tone of voice that did everything except speak the word ‘but’ out loud. He looked over at Remus with raised eyebrows as though passing the torch of a talking to over to him.

“Oh, no, I’m not pulling your dead weight, here,” Remus objected. “You can dig yourself out of this mess.”

“That was given to me because they had too many and no one buys them, apparently,” Elodie told both of them. “I had no specific purpose in mind for it, so it could have easily have been Amortentia or Pepper-Up and I’d still have it in my bag.”

“Understood,” Remus said.

“No one buys them because they’re  _ boring, _ most likely,” Sirius said, handing the potion back to her.

“The people are boring or the potion is boring?” she asked him.

“Both. The people are boring because they use it for exam anxiety or right before they get married, even though a healthy amount of terror is highly motivating in both of those situations,” Sirius said.

“Sirius!” Elodie frowned at him.

“The  _ potion _ is boring because it’s much more effective to take Dreamless Sleep and not have to be awake for whatever you were stressing over. I’ll take ‘dead to the world asleep’ over ‘placid’ every day of the week,” Sirius added.

“Well, the next time the apothecary clerk is giving out free potions, I’ll be sure to demand it be something ‘not boring.’”

“So, Apothecary, thrift stores,” Remus listed.

“Camera store!” Sirius said from where his head was once again buried in her bag, looking around.

“So what you’re really saying here is, the next time you go shopping on your own, I can snoop through  _ your _ bag without asking?” Elodie asked Sirius.

Sirius handed her the bag back very quickly.

“Saw that coming a mile away,” Remus said behind his teacup. 

“Okay, so I can see the curiosity burning in your eyes, both of you--it’s dramatic, but nothing happened to me, really. I’ll explain,” Elodie said, setting her bag down on the  _ other _ side of Sirius and folding her hands in her lap. “One of the first places I went was the Apothecary. While I was there, there was this guy in there who was really tall, kind of memorably intimidating-looking, and he was angry, so that stood out, too. He was upset about his arm, and he kept holding it out as though the clerk should be able to do something about it. Eventually he stormed out, and I was able to buy my things.”

“Maybe the clerk thought you needed a Draught of Peace after that,” Remus said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, actually! But then I moved on to an impulse purchase, the camera, and I figured out a little bit about how to use it, enough to take a few pictures. The thrift store was good--Sirius, do you want to see what I got now?”

Elodie made her voice sound very innocent and obvious, like, ‘can I tempt you to be distracted?’ knowing that he wouldn’t bite.

“Black, black, more black, some random thing for Remus, more black, a Muggle band t-shirt, a bunch of black. Nah, I’m good to wait,” Sirius said.

_ “Moving on.” _ Elodie said, trying deliberately not to be shocked that Sirius would be able to peg thrift store purchases so accurately without having gone with her. “I should probably tell you that one of the places that Molly suggested as a good thrift store was in Knockturn.”

She waited for a reaction.

“You’re waiting for me to get upset, but I need more information,” Sirius said.

“I appreciate the courtesy,” Elodie said, glancing over at Remus. He just nodded at her, but he did look concerned, and she appreciated that too, though she didn’t say so. “I will admit to something. I was curious about Borgin and Burke’s, as they’re kind of notorious? But I also realized they were notorious for a reason. So I made a plan.”

Remus put down his teacup and sat forward in his chair, which made Elodie dearly want to giggle. He knew her  _ so _ well.

“Did your plan involve not actually going there and thus just pretending there was an issue to tell us about, by any chance?” Sirius asked, scooting closer to her on the couch.

“No, it involved owning my Americanness. My American  _ tourist _ -ness.”

“Merlin’s  _ balls, _ I bet that would have been fun to watch,” Sirius said, turning to face her all the way. He crossed his legs, placed one elbow on each leg, angled his arms in, and plopped his chin down between them. “Please,  _ please _ do a rendition for me? Please?”

“Hmm,” Elodie said. “The problem is, once you hear what I overheard, you’re not going to want me to goof around. So let’s rain check the tourist ditz for a few minutes? In fact, I will apologize, because that was irresponsible of me--I buried the lede.” Elodie took a deep breath. “Am I right in assuming that the phrase ‘Dark Lord’ is used in reference to--”

Sirius grabbed her arm before she was able to finish her sentence. “Was it Peter?” he asked in a raspy, urgent tone.

“No, I’m sorry. I would have brought him back to you in a  _ cage _ , if it had been.” She surprised herself with her own level of vehemence there. “So, remember that angry guy in the Apothecary? He was in Borgin and Burke’s, sounding desperate, and saying something like, ‘you know what the Dark Lord is like, what am I going to do?’”

Elodie had expected that both men would be upset. She had completely underestimated how upset. Both of them had clearly been concerned when she’d brought up the phrase ‘Dark Lord,’ but now that they knew how unequivocal the context was, the looks on their faces were grave and deeply worried.

“Tell me everything you can, please,” Remus said in a gutted voice. His take-charge attitude was exactly what she needed.

“All right. He was clearly concerned about his left forearm.” She pressed her right hand against the place on her left arm that she’d seen the man point to. “The impression I got at the Apothecary was that he’d been injured, it had healed, and now it was degenerating or something--it was very strange.”

“Did it look like anyone you’d recognize?” Sirius said, then quickly he added, “No, probably not, actually.”

“We’ll narrow it down,” Remus said. “Right now I want to know everything that happened.”

“I walked in, and I was already feeling anxious,” Elodie said. “I had the camera out, and I was just going to look around quickly and then leave, and that’s when I heard the angry man. He sounded like he was pleading with someone, and I assumed it was the shop owner.”

“Burke was a sympathizer, for sure, but too wily to be caught doing anything that got him the right kind of attention.” Sirius grumbled. “It’s a shame that he hasn’t learned his lesson.” 

The expression on his face didn’t leave Elodie the impression that he thought it was much of a shame at all. Sirius looked like he’d be happy to personally teach Burke that lesson.

“I was just frozen in place after I heard what he said. I knew I had the camera and I thought, if I can just get a picture of him, I could show it to you. So I put the camera up like I was taking pictures and decided I would just act like a complete moron tourist, and see what happened.” She paused, then smiled. “And it worked.”

“You got the picture?” Remus asked.

She nodded. “I got the picture. He was holding his arm out and everything, but I will say that I saw his arm in the Apothecary, and there wasn’t much to see. So I think he’s worried about something that’s happening to it, not what it looks like now, if that makes sense.”

Elodie had been broadly hinting at the Dark Mark as much as she could, but neither Remus nor Sirius looked like they were catching the hint. Now, after her most obvious comment yet, they still looked perplexed, as though there was a mystery to solve about what could possibly be on the man’s arm! It started to dawn on Elodie that the two men might not actually  _ know _ about the Dark Mark. This possibility hadn’t even occurred to her; the fact that Voldemort’s most loyal followers were branded with a mark that helped their master call them was something she assumed had been discovered after Voldemort had been defeated.

What if it hadn’t, though? Elodie took a few seconds to contemplate the likelihood of this, and what she concluded wasn’t good. The wizarding world was the kind of place that took coincidence and good fortune for granted to an extent that was almost a joke (and it might have been a joke, given that the books were for a young adult audience)! This was exactly the reason  _ not _ to do so, but Elodie wondered if in the aftermath of the deaths of Harry’s parents, everything else that happened had ended up ignored as the victors hoped for the best. James and Lily died, Harry survived, Peter escaped, and Sirius had been captured. Voldemort had disappeared, presumed destroyed. His followers scattered to the winds, for the most part escaping the consequences of their actions.

Or had they? How many had been hunted down, and had anyone known that there was a brand on some of their arms to indicate their guilt?

“Something coming back? Something somehow linked to Lord Git?” Sirius asked, dubiously.

That clinched it. They didn’t know.

“What if--” Elodie stood up and started to walk around the couch, trying to think of the right way to broach the subject of a Dark Mark to two men who knew far more about fighting Voldemort than she did. “What if,” and here, from behind the couch, she leaned over and said the next phrase ceremoniously, next to Sirius,  _ “Lord Git _ required some sort of a loyalty pledge, something  _ physical?” _

“Are you saying like an injury?” Remus sounded disgusted. “No. That’s far too easy to use against him, and I don’t see him being that shortsighted.”

“That’s a very good point, except I feel like, from all the reading I’ve been doing, that he wouldn’t even consider losing. Like, it was a blind spot for him,” Elodie said, thinking about the arrogance and cruelty that personified Lord Voldemort, especially in the later books. “Not to mention, a loyalty injury, as you suggest, wouldn’t that be a prestige thing if he did prevail? The complete opposite of the kind of drawback it would be otherwise?”

“I agree that he doesn’t seem like an ‘in case of failure’ kind of Git,” Sirius said, “But--”

“--but he  _ did _ lose. And it seems like his contingency plan for ‘in case of failure’ is working, if his followers are in fear of his return,” Remus pointed out.

Elodie had been pacing, and now she leaned against the couch.  _ “Is _ there some kind of brand or injury that you can inflict on someone that is tied to--what? Someone’s actual life energy? No offense, but that sounds a bit farfetched.”

“And that’s the Muggle childhood speaking,” Sirius said to her confidently. “Pureblood marriages used to sometimes employ a comparable spell, in war time. Part loyalty oath, part insurance.” He held up his left hand. “The spell would accompany a brand on the left hand. If either of the couple were killed, the brand would fade. It was, as you said, connected to their life force.”

“Wow, that makes a ton of sense, actually,” Elodie said, coming back around the front of the couch to sit. “Especially back when heredity was the be-all and end-all of existence. Imagine a rich wizard off doing something important and sick of Apparating back home to make his vassals listen to his wife and sons!”

“Wait,” Remus said. “The suggestion here then is that that’s what Voldemort did? Tied a brand to him, so that as long as he lived, it was visible? What happened if one of the couple died, Sirius?”

“The brand would fade,” Sirius said. “Or maybe more accurately, it healed.”

“That!” Elodie said, pointing. “That’s familiar. The clerk said something about the wound having healed well, and the angry man said that it  _ had, _ but that it was regressing back!”

“If this is true, how did the Aurors miss this?” Remus said, sounding angry. “How did  _ Dumbledore _ miss this?”

Elodie tried to imagine what it must be like to hear that there was a major aspect of a war you fought in that was missed, one that might have made a big difference. Something about what Remus had said made her think about how the Ministry reacted in the fourth book, after Harry had told them that Voldemort had returned.

“Maybe, horribly, they didn’t?” she suggested. “Maybe they thought he was gone, and that telling everyone about the brand would continue to sow discord?”

“That’s the most infuriating thing that might be true that I’ve heard in a long time,” Sirius said, sounding despondent. 

“No way would the Aurors keep this quiet,” Remus said firmly. “They lost too many of their own to hide something this definitive.”

“Dumbledore, though?” Sirius looked like he was going to be sick. “He  _ loved _ James. He was proud of Lily. He’s watched over Harry!”

Elodie really loved how Harry was such a focus, for Sirius. “Didn’t you just say something to me yesterday about not knowing the battles someone’s fighting in their own mind?” she said to him. “Which is more likely: that Albus is hiding something useful because he wanted everything to be peaceful in the end? Or that he’s got some sort of a plan in mind, even something half-formed, and knowing about this possible weakness, this identifier, is part of that plan?”

“That’s a great deal of faith,” Remus objected. “I care for him too, but we need to be realistic.”

“So, being realistic, this is only a theory based on a very potent phrase spoken by what sounds like a deranged man,” Sirius said.  _ “If _ Dumbledore has a plan, would it benefit us to bring our half-cast theory to him yet?”

Elodie shook her head, and saw that Remus was doing the same. “My instinct is research, but--”

“Not the kind of research an Auror would do. No asking shady characters questions about forearms,” Remus said. “Elodie research.”

“Lots of lists and books that are a little beyond comprehension? Yes, I agree,” she teased him. “Besides, when we met with the Weasleys and Albus, everyone had somewhat of an assignment but you.”

“Everyone?” Sirius asked. “Did I get an assignment?”

“No, you were  _ my _ assignment,” Elodie said absently, still thinking about their own plans.

“I think I like adult assignments far better than the ones I had at school.” Sirius grinned at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Elodie asked, seconds before realizing the importance of his comment in relation to hers was. “Oh. You know, that’s a show of weakness right there,” she said, pointing at his face. “You don’t know what I meant by ‘my assignment.’ I could make up something you’d hate to do.”

“I’m adventurous. I’d take the risk,” Sirius said, leaning back, as relaxed as could be.

“If I don’t lose my sight from all the eyerolls I’ll be doing thanks to his terrible flirting,” Remus said from his chair across the room, “I think I’ll enjoy watching him underestimate you before he gets to know you better, Elodie.”

“If he wants to try to flirt while I follow my assignment of asking him what he might have learned about the other residents of Azkaban, that’s up to him, I guess,” Elodie said to Remus.

“I’m  _ in the room, _ you know,” Sirius groused.

Elodie patted him on his knee as she went to get up from the couch. “Don’t worry, you’re not necessary for this part of the conversation.”

8888888888888888

After such a deep, serious talk, all three of them went their separate ways for a while. Elodie went to the library, and Remus had an errand to do, as well. She hoped that Sirius would enjoy having the house to himself and his hippogriff.

The library she chose to go to was the one walkable by Hollyfield, but Elodie supposed she could look for a larger, more comprehensive one for in the future. She wondered if witches and wizards used fewer well-stocked libraries because of how easily they could travel between them, but that wasn’t really the sort of question one could just walk up to someone and ask! Elodie did find that she missed the internet. Would Albus let her convince him to connect Hogwarts to some version of it, if she were still around in ten or more years? She couldn’t imagine being Muggle-born and be given magic but have her internet access removed.

The books Elodie looked for at the library that day were mostly magical wound related. She found a book on medieval customs that had a whole section on marriage traditions. She hoped that it would include the type of brand that Sirius had mentioned. Another book,  _ Mediwitch Meets Modernity _ seemed promising, as it detailed the sort of changes in magical medicine that might come up against a cursed brand like the one they were looking for. Before she let herself forget, she also found a book on magical cameras and photograph development.

Elodie also, on a whim, looked for a book on creating one’s own charms and spells for everyday use. She wanted to come up with something that would help her track the different stages of Wolfsbane, especially once there were two cauldrons going. Mellie’s calendar was fantastic, but she had to go into the room to see it. She was looking for something that acted more like an alarm or alert system. Albus was planning to help her transfer the cauldron from Hollyfield to their house, because it was almost time to create the new batch from the old. She did  _ not _ want that to have any problems, because if it did, she’d promised Remus she wouldn’t cast the penalty spell ever again. 

She cast a quick time and date spell that Remus had taught her. It was the ninth of September, at 2:11 in the afternoon. She’d been in this world for a little over two months, and now that she’d finished checking out her magical books at the magical library she had been visiting, she was preparing to Floo back to the house she shared with  _ Remus Lupin  _ and  _ Sirius Black. _

“It’s amazing how easily one can get used to the impossible,” Elodie said out loud, stepping out of the fireplace.

“Elodie, why are you covering your eyes?” Sirius asked. He must have been in the room when she had arrived; she’d deliberately covered her face with her hands when she’d stepped into the Floo.

“Honestly? Because I wasn’t sure if I would find a hippogriff or a naked housemate in the living room when I stepped through?

“That’s… actually really wise. I’m alone and clothed, though, so you’re safe. Honestly, ‘safe’ is probably relative, come to think of it,” Sirius told her.

“One of these days you’re going to come up smack against the fact that you’ve become a valuable and respected member of society, and I don’t know if your poor heart will be able to stand the stress of it,” Elodie casually remarked, as she walked over to the bookshelf next to her left-hand side of the Gryffindor couch. She looked at the books in her hand for a few minutes before she decided on medieval traditions. Then, she looked over at Sirius.

He was sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, turned toward her, with a lost look on his face.

Instead of plopping herself onto the couch to prepare for her first in-house book chat with Remus, Elodie left the book on her seat and went over to where Sirius was sitting. She crouched down to his level and practiced something that she’d seen Albus do to great effect: she waited.

“What if I never do?” Sirius asked. He wasn’t really looking at her, he was looking past her shoulder, past the room, out at the world they could see through their picture window. “What if we don’t clear my name, if Peter dies somewhere, and the Ministry doesn’t take the testimony of a werewolf as worth anything?”

Elodie adjusted her position to sit, rather than crouch. “My mother used to do this thing when I worried,” she said, finding that mentioning her mother wasn’t as sharply painful as she’d expected. “She’d go full out, worst case scenario, and talk it out with me. So: what’s your worst-case? What are we dreading? Can we deconstruct that?”

“Elodie,” Sirius said, sounding pained. “I’m not--I don’t want to re-examine all of my problems and find sunny solutions to them, okay? I’m an asshole for even saying that, but I just--”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m trying to cheer you up for the sake of a smile, Sirius Black,” Elodie countered. “I’m talking contingency plans. I’m suggesting we  _ look _ at your options, not dread them.”

Now he looked over at her, brows furrowed, but with a twisted sort of hope behind the consternation. “Azkaban. I’m not going back there,” he stated starkly. “With every meaning you can think of that goes with that.”

Elodie shook her head. “See, that’s the mistake of a Gryffindor, I think. You’re saying you’d rather die, yes?”

“Insulting via my House! If you’re going to do that, I’m going to ask Dumbledore to bring the Sorting Hat over,” Sirius told her.

“I’d try it on, even,” she said, cracking a smile at the thought, which was essentially a fan’s dream come true. “But I’m actually serious here. If you  _ really _ would rather die than go back, you need to go about that the right way. Fight all the way to the end.” She reached a hand out and grasped his shoulder. “Think, Sirius. Before, you wanted to get out, right? You wanted to find Peter.”

“Damn right I did,” he said.

“So you kept yourself alive in there. If you’re saying you’d rather die, what would be different. Could you kill yourself in there?”

_ “Holy fuck, _ Elodie,” Sirius whispered.

“If you’re fighting to the death, I don’t want you to die until you’re sure you’ve  _ lost, _ Sirius, does that make sense? I’m sorry, I am probably just… this is too extreme. Forget I--”

_ “No,” _ Sirius said, grabbing at her hand as she pulled it from his shoulder in order to get up. “This is  _ exactly  _ what I need, right now. Stay, get dark with me.”

Now Elodie smiled, settling back down a bit farther from him, her back against the couch. “Not too dark. This is the absolute worst case, here.”

He rubbed at his chest, as if feeling to be sure his heart was still there and beating properly. “Worst case, yes. I could kill myself in Azkaban.”

“That’s settled then. Let’s move on to slightly less awful?” Elodie felt a shiver that shook her whole body as if  _ she _ were the dog animagus.

“Second to worst case?” Sirius asked, offering a humorless smile. “Never getting to give Harry a place to live that’s safe. Whatever the reason is.”

That one was more than a little heartbreaking to Elodie, as she knew Albus was unequivocal about Harry’s protection under his mother’s sacrifice. She didn’t know if that was common knowledge, though, and she was not the person to break that news to Sirius. Not only did she just flat out not want to do it, she didn’t think it was her place to. He’d known Lily Evans before she’d become his best friend’s wife, after all. He’d probably been to their wedding. Had he heard Lily cry about the way her family had undoubtedly treated her when she’d chosen to marry a wizard? Knowing that Harry had to remain with her awful family in order to stay safe, when he was the person Harry’s parents had chosen to protect their son… That was not the kind of news anyone wanted to be the bearer of.

“All right. So that’s a worst-case, how can we qualify that? Does he still have to be a minor? Can he come live here after Hogwarts, would that count?”

Sirius made an agonized noise in response to that, and Elodie wished she could find a speed up, penalty potion for the process of grief. A few years of her life would be absolutely  _ nothing _ to her if she could ease this man’s suffering.

“Four years,” Sirius rasped out. “That’s how long that would be.  _ Fuck.” _

“Okay, hold still and shut your eyes for a minute,” Elodie said, giving in to an impulse. He looked at her for barely a second before obeying, which made a little puzzle piece in her heart click into place, oddly. That kind of trust was incredibly precious to her.

She scooted over to him, reaching out to grasp his hand for a second so he knew exactly where she was. Then, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, but she couldn’t quite reach with the kind of gentleness she was going for, so she knelt down behind him, again orienting him to her with a hand on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asked. His abrasive tone from their earlier conversation sounded like it was eased by his current curiosity, she thought.

“This is-- I’m probably really over-reaching, here. But, that’s me, Overreach Elodie,” she said, her own tone far too self-deprecating for her own tastes. “Affection. How long, Sirius, since someone’s just-- Trust me, okay?” she finally said, hearing her own frustration in trying to convey exactly what she was thinking.

“I trust you,” he said, and under the hand she still rested on his shoulder, she felt his tension drain away.

Elodie slid her hand from his shoulder directly into his hair, pressing just hard enough so she didn’t tickle him. With her other hand she reached up and matched the first, sliding her fingertips along his scalp in the kind of loving action she’d imagine a mother would. The kind  _ his  _ mother probably  _ never _ had.

She didn’t want to turn it into some weird kind of prolonged thing, so once she reached the nape of his neck, she slid her hands down along his chest to hold him against her front, in an awkward hug, given their positions on the floor. His arms came up to press against hers, and his head leaned back against her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you too,” Elodie said. “I’m going to get up now, so we can continue our talk, and so Remus won’t have a heart attack when he walks through the Floo and nearly steps on us.”

“Anything I should know, there?” Sirius asked her when they’d resumed their previous positions, though he sat a bit further away from the hearth, now.

“Not a thing,” Elodie said breezily. “So worst worst case is back in Azkaban (and dead), and second worst is not being able to provide Harry a home. I feel like the best way to cope with wanting Harry with you is to continue to try to clear your name, though. What do you think?”

“I think you have some of your own worst case scenarios to work through, but I’ll give you some time to recognize that on your own,” Sirius said, narrowing his grey eyes at her. “I agree with your last point, but would add that I want to be clear about what my plans are, to Dumbledore.”

“I would caution you that it may not make a difference in  _ his _ plans, but yes,” Elodie said. 

“Next, would be losing Harry or Remus,” Sirius said. “It feels like something is going to happen. Maybe not immediately losing them, but I  _ remember _ this feeling, Elodie. This is how it felt after our last year at Hogwarts.”

“The good news is a contingency plan for keeping them alive is exactly what we’re already doing,” she pointed out. “Remus has a safe place to live, and Albus has brought back the Order of the Phoenix. If Death Eaters are mobilizing, we’re going to find out.”

Sirius’s head whipped up to look at her in great concern, and Elodie shook her head at him in confusion at his extreme reaction.

“I’m sorry I just--that name. It’s just, not right, hearing it from you,” he said. “No, that’s not it.” Sirius rolled himself to a stand and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “It’s just not right hearing it at all. I told myself in Azkaban that they were gone _. _ It was part of how I lived with my situation.”

“If they’re back, we’ll defeat them,” Elodie said. As she’d started speaking, they heard the front door unlock, and Remus walked in.

“Who are we defeating?” he asked, looking tired but pleased. He’d changed into more everyday clothing, and there was a dark smudge on his hand.

“Death Eaters,” Sirius said with a bloodthirsty kind of grin. “You in?”

“Absolutely,” Remus answered with his own grin. He looked years younger in that moment, and Elodie could picture him with Sirius and James and Peter, newly minted adults just graduated from Hogwarts, ready to fight Voldemort or die trying. “Before that, though,” Remus said, “I think you have some work to do, don’t you?”

After he said this, he tossed an object at Sirius, who turned his body to catch it with both hands. He lifted it up for Elodie to see--it was a keychain with two keys on it. As he examined them, Sirius’s low-key excitement at being given a present was replaced by a delight that washed over his face in realization.

“Is this -?”

“Muggle motorcycle, out back,” Remus nodded, taking his shoes off and casting a few cleansing charms on them and his hands. “I’m sorry you can’t have yours, but Rubeus Hagrid has it, and--”

“No need to let the whole of wizarding Britain know I’m alive and well and stealing back my own bike,” Sirius finished for him. “That’s fine. I made some mistakes with that one. I can start from scratch, now.” Sirius’s huge, joyful grin as he lifted his head from looking at the keys in his hand was like the sun cresting a hill. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Remus said firmly. “Or, if you prefer, thirteen more years of your continued health and safety.”

“Well shit, I’m not sure I can afford this, Moony,” Sirius joked.

“Try,” Remus answered. They smiled at each other, and Elodie hugged her arms around herself, happy to be there to watch them.


	18. Household Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is not adjusting well to house sharing, especially not when he feels mothered by Elodie. The result is a tense few weeks, culminating in a fight right before the full moon. 
> 
> Moony, uh... makes it better?
> 
> (this chapter, you guys. OH MY GOD)

The next few weeks of living in their shared house was filled with the kind of adjustments people make to living around others. Sirius and Elodie learned that Remus liked early morning showers, a light breakfast, and eating a hot dinner a bit late in the day. Elodie and Remus found out that Sirius enjoyed sleeping in (what a shocker), a big lunch, and to work outside on his motorbike until dinner, after which he loved taking a long, hot bath or shower. Elodie herself wondered if her American-ness had caused any strange looks to pass between her wizard housemates, but if they’d found anything difficult to adjust to, neither of them had said anything. They were getting along quite well for three adults unaccustomed to sharing a house, with one large exception.

Remus did  _ not _ like to feel mothered. The problem was, it seemed to Elodie that he had completely forgotten what it was like to be  _ actually _ mothered, and thus found any action under the umbrella of ‘caretaking’ to be suspect. Elodie had initially cooked often that first week, but when she had asked the men if they had any requests before she headed out to buy groceries, Remus had put his foot down. Now, she was cooking less than half of the time, which was frustrating to her, as she genuinely  _ enjoyed _ cooking. But Remus had been adamant that he wasn’t going to allow her to feel responsible for feeding him.

That statement had been confusing, because Remus wasn’t the only person Elodie was cooking for--he was only a third of the people she was cooking for. She’d had to pick her battles, though, because the larger issue was with the preparations she’d been doing for his lycanthropy.

The Wolfsbane had not been a problem; Albus had helped her transport the existing cauldron to the area of the basement she’d designated as the Potions Lab, and it had arrived safe and potent, which she’d checked with spells designed to test a potion’s efficacy after moving it. Remus’s problem was with the location of the potions.

“That area is awfully close to the cage, Elodie,” Remus had objected, referring to the construction of wide, flat iron bars they’d sunk into the basement’s foundation to serve as a safe place for him to transform. 

“Do you think you’re going to break out?” she had asked, surprised. 

“No, I--I just don’t like that you’re making plans to spend so much time in the basement, I guess. Not with so much of it dedicated as almost a shrine to my condition. It’s not right.”

“If you’re that unhappy with the set up, we can use it for just one full moon, and take the time until the next one to dig out a place that’s not inside the house,” Elodie had said, not for the first time. But Remus had just shaken his head and stalked off. 

“Is Remus territorial?” she’d asked Sirius, then. Sirius hadn’t had any better insight than she had, though, and in the end, the two of them had concluded that Remus was unused to being taken care of, and it was, quite simply, making him grouchy.

The second issue Remus had been acting particular about was the cage itself. Upon agreement with Albus, the three of them had taken the time and care to construct the cage from sturdy iron bars, three inches wide with two inch gaps in between, with a thickness of half an inch. The cage bars were buried into the house’s foundation, and rather than using the ceiling of the basement with its more obvious weaknesses, they’d magically constructed a metal roof that was welded with magic together with the bars it sat on top of. Remus had insisted that the bars not lay flush with any of the basement walls, because of the opportunity to rip at them with his claws. Elodie hoped to add a basement door that connected to the cage in a way similar to the cellar at Hollyfield someday, so that Remus would be able to spend time outside as he had there, before the full moon rose.

With how uptight Remus had gotten over the past weeks over everything to do with his transformation, though, Elodie had kept this hope to herself.

She’d had to keep a lot to herself. Remus had been neglecting their book chat, and while she knew this was due to his spending time at his preferred library (whose hours, Remus had assured her, were primarily during the afternoons) doing research over the brands they’d been trying to learn about, it didn’t  _ feel _ like he had a good reason. It felt like he was ignoring her, after the fourth time she’d sat down to wait for him only to watch him smile apologetically and head for the fireplace.

On day two of the stirring phase of his current Wolfsbane, about two and a half weeks since they’d moved in, Elodie finally gave up and cornered Remus in the kitchen to ask him some questions.

“Hey,” she said, standing next to the table as he ate breakfast.

“Good morning,” he responded, from the side of his mouth that wasn’t chewing. “What’s up?”

“You,” Elodie said, sitting down across from him. “I miss you. I feel like I don’t really see you anymore.”

Instead of responding right away, Remus looked down at his plate, and Elodie took that to mean that he recognized there was a problem. That in and of itself was encouraging. She wasn’t exaggerating about missing him.

“All right, I’ll admit to something I’d hoped I was wrong about,” Remus said, swallowing his bite and setting down his fork. “I’m definitely having an adjustment period to living in a house with other people. Especially people who feel like they have a stake in my health and happiness.”

“Stakes are for vampires, Remus, but I hear you,” Elodie said in a teasing voice. “I was hoping that was what it was? Because you’ve been… different.”

“I hope you haven’t been stocking up on silver bullets as a result?” Remus said, taking up the thread of her teasing. 

“More like  _ Protego _ charms and punching bags,” Elodie admitted. “I have felt like hitting things sometimes, when we’ve had a disagreement. I hope that isn’t too shocking.”

“Less shocking than you might think, if you could see how angry you can get while arguing with me,” Remus told her.  _ “Protego _ charms, though?”

“It’s a snarky Muggle-born thing, I think,” Elodie said. “It’s like a passive-aggressive way of saying, ‘I feel attacked.’”

His eyebrows went up at this, but when he lifted his fork, Elodie nodded at him to continue eating.

“From my perspective, I’m just doing what I do, right? Elodie the fixer,” she said, twisting the ends of her hair in her fingers absently. “I guess it can feel frustrating to be on the other side of that if you’re a full-grown, capable adult,” she nodded at him in recognition of how he might feel. “But I don’t know how  _ not _ to want to do these things, especially if they’re things that the other person can’t do. I mean, I went and bought Sirius clothing.”

Remus pointed at her with his fork. “Actually, that’s a good point,” he said around his bite of food. “That’s something you would totally do, and I saw it like that at the time, but when you appropriated that side room for the potions it just felt… different, to me.”

“Well, you’re not trapped in the house and grounds, like he is,” Elodie said. “You’re capable of taking care of yourself, but I doubt you really wanted me to put you in charge of the Wolfsbane?”

He shook his head.

“And it wasn’t just me, setting up the cage structure, but it sure felt like you were only upset at me for it,” Elodie said, forcing a laugh. The day they’d set it up, Remus had actually yelled at her, which he hardly ever did. She supposed she was still doing what he was complaining about right now: caretaking. Excusing and minimizing his responses that had hurt her, because knowing he’d hurt her might upset him.

“I didn’t realize that at the time,” Remus said. “I’m sorry.”

“What can I do to make you more comfortable about the fact that I consider you a friend and want to make sure you’re happy and have the things you need?” Elodie said, all in a rush.

Remus laughed. “You really are a singular person, Elodie. I’m not sure I can answer that, but I’ll try to be more aware of how I react to you, when you do try to help?”

“It was a trick question anyway,” Elodie told him. “I just want to cook more. I like to do it, and I was very frustrated with the way you handled that last week. I was hoping you’d tell me something that I could use ‘can I cook more?’ as a response to, but you thwarted me.”

“You could have spoken up, at the time.” Remus’s voice was gentle, as he said that.

“Speaking of seeing yourself while arguing,” Elodie quipped. “You did  _ not _ look like you’d have taken that well. I had the choice of being direct with you or avoiding a longer argument, and I chose discretion as the better part of valor.”

“I’m sorry you felt you had to do that,” he said. “It’s been a tough transition.”

“I’d rather it be hard on us than Sirius,” Elodie said.

Remus nodded. “Thank goodness for that. He really needed a friend.”

 

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After her conversation with Remus, she hoped they would get along better, but there was still a strangeness to his behavior toward her for the rest of the day that Elodie couldn’t put her finger on. As a contrast, she got along with Sirius fantastically well, and had from day one. The two of them just gelled in a way that felt completely natural, whether they were talking over his experiences in Azkaban for the Order or joking about something. It wasn’t until she was sitting on the couch with Sirius that evening, joking and laughing, that she realized exactly what had seemed so odd about the end of her conversation with Remus.

“‘Friend,’” Elodie said out loud, quoting Remus. “Son of a  _ bitch.” _

“What happened?” Sirius asked. 

“Remus sneaking in the snark, that’s what. He’s not even here now, is he? I bet he thinks he’s just so fucking clever,” Elodie swore. Then, she thought about the implications of what he’d said, not just how he’d said it. “He’s jealous.”

“I thought you said you and he weren’t-- OW!” Sirius rubbed his shoulder where Elodie had smacked him.

“We  _ aren’t, _ you git. He’s jealous of  _ me.” _

“I mean, I offered once, but-- no, don’t hit me again, I’m kidding, no more wrath of the woman scorned, thank you,” Sirius said, scrambling out of range of her smacking hand. 

“I am  _ not _ scorned, and I honestly am getting sick of hearing implications of how inevitable certain things are,” Elodie said, leaning her head back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “If any of you jerks knew how much actual work would go into even getting  _ close _ to Remus and I being any sort of  _ anything, _ ALL of you would stop hinting at it, believe me.” To herself, she added,  _ If it were anywhere near that inevitable I wouldn’t be feeling so neglected and miserable, this past week. _

“Wait,” Sirius said, popping his head up from behind the couch where he’d vaulted himself to escape from her vengeance. “You two are every bit as obvious in public, too?”

“I’m only not using magic to hit you out of principle!” Elodie hollered over her shoulder. “We are  _ not _ obvious.”

“As one of the non couple in question, I’m not sure you’re in position to state that with any kind of certainty,” Sirius said from behind the couch.

“Fine. But there is nothing going on between us, and I think the implication that there  _ should  _ be is ruining my actual friendship!” She leaned her head farther back to look Sirius in the eye. “He’s jealous of  _ my _ friendship with  _ you. _ You need to spend more time with him, and less with me.”

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes. We talked through what I thought were our differences, and he seemed completely reasonable, at the time! And then at the end of our conversation I said something about how it seems like maybe the two of us weren’t all that good at adjusting to living together, and at least  _ you _ are happy.”

“I love it here,” Sirius confirmed, smiling.

“I’m glad to hear it, I really am,” Elodie said. “His response to me was, and I quote, “Sirius needed a friend.”

“Friend, singular?” Sirius asked.

“Yes!” Elodie hissed. “I guess I missed it, at the time.”

To her surprise, Sirius chuckled. “He’s a sneaky bastard sometimes. He probably figured you’d re-examine, hopefully when he wasn’t around to feel your wrath.”

“I really care about him, okay? I just want what’s best. But lately he’s just been more of a bear than a wolf, and I’d be happy to figure out a way to get back to where we were before.”

“Come up with a project,” Sirius said, walking over and sitting down, albeit at the very far edge of the couch. “Be the one inaccessible.”

“The irony of  _ me _ being the one that’s ‘hard to get’ out of the two of us might actually create a supermassive black hole,” Elodie muttered in a grumpy voice.

“A super what? No, not hard to get, just busy,” Sirius told her. “The point is to show him that your participation has been the grease that made things work. It’s not you being overzealous, you’re just necessary.” He looked over at her and grinned. “But before you do that, could you make me my favorite dinner, tomorrow? The ‘necessary’ thing, it’s not just a construct to force Remus to stop being a git. We can’t cook for shit.”

She promised him that she would.

8888888888888888

It was hard for Elodie to sleep that night. Sirius’s suggestion was a solid one, but she felt like it was far too similar to a ‘hard to get’ scenario. She wasn’t trying to be greedy about Remus’s attention, not really. She just wanted a better  _ quality _ of his attention. Somehow the addition of Sirius to their duo had caused Remus to disengage, but it wasn’t just that--he seemed to be actively hostile to her, at times. She really hoped it had to do with jealousy of her friendship with Sirius, given how close the two men had been, years ago. Elodie tried to think of how hard it would be to finally discover a dear friend’s innocence and be able to provide that friend a safe place to live, only to have a new, different person monopolize all of their time.

It would hurt. Then to add to that, this new friend was also butting in on things that weren’t their business, finding ways to insert themselves into responsibilities that he’d been taking care of on his own for over a decade. Put like that, Elodie was being a complete  _ asshole. _ She hoped that wasn’t what she was really doing, but at least now she could understand how he could be so pissy to her lately.

So the real question was, what was she going to do about everything?. Elodie remembered the week before the Wolfsbane when she’d first come to 1994, and how much she had absolutely  _ dreaded _ having to admit to him what she’d done. He’d been understanding then, but Remus had since admitted that he’d also been dreading that week, thinking he’d have to spend the full moon without Wolfsbane. Now, she’d done something else she knew he might be unhappy with: she’d taken advantage of him being gone during the afternoons, and had had Albus to come in and help her cast the wards he had liked so much from Hollyfield. That meant that she’d gone back to the boarding house to ask about them, which Remus would probably find too intrusive.

The wards themselves were worth it, she’d thought at the time. They really were genius; they activated on wand tap, and cast things like a silencing spell that stretched across the whole room, anti-harm wards to dissuade anyone from hurting themselves (which hadn’t been 100% proved to be effective on Werewolves, but it was damn well worth the try), and other wards and charms that would protect the cage and its occupant. It was a great set up, and a far cry from what they had in place at the Shrieking Shack twenty years ago  _ and _ less than three months ago.

And yet, she was certain he was going to be angry at her for setting it up.

Elodie knew he would be angry because he’d been varying degrees of unhappy with her for all of the other amenities she’d organized for the house in the nearly three weeks they’d been living there. She cast the time charm, saw that it was only 1:12 AM, and groaned. There was no way she would get back to sleep right now, not without some kind of a reset. After a minute or two she had the patched but beautiful robe Molly had given to her cinched around her waist and her slippers on, and she headed upstairs to look for the chocolate bread she’d gotten from Hollyfield on her visit.

The  _ Muffliato  _ spell she’d cast on herself turned out to be a good idea, because when she made it upstairs, she heard a light snoring sound coming from the living room. Elodie tiptoed into the room to check, and saw that it was Remus, still dressed from the day before, looking like he’d come through the Floo late in the evening and curled up on the big long couch instead of heading to bed. He looked incredibly calm and peaceful, and she was glad that the Wolfsbane week didn’t start until tomorrow, or she’d have had to wake him and make him drink a glass of it. She cast another sound muffling charm for the general area, one that didn’t last longer than a few hours.

Elodie snuck back into the kitchen and cut a slice of the bread, then on a whim, she took out a second plate and placed a Remus-sized portion of it on it. She then cast another expiring spell to keep it fresh. Then she took it in and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch. As she munched a bite of her own slice, Elodie frowned down at Remus for a second. She wanted to put a blanket on him or something, but his frustration at her supposed ‘mothering’ caused her to change her mind. Leaving out food for him was probably already a step too far.

Her anger was rising again, this time at the idea that she should somehow curb her natural impulses to be kind, because this stubborn man sleeping in front of her didn’t want to allow her to care for him. Elodie retreated back to his chair and curled her legs under her as she sat and finished her chocolate bread, watching Remus sleep. Still under the  _ Muffliato, _ Elodie lifted her wand and levitated one of the folded blankets that lived on the shelf under the coffee table. When it was within her reach, she snagged it and draped it around herself, up to her chin.

“Hah,” she whispered with an after-midnight kind of vindictive logic. “You can’t be angry at me for caring for  _ myself, _ now, can you?”

Remus slept on, as her spell had completely blocked the sound of her voice from reaching his ears. She didn’t intend to spend too much longer curled up in Remus’s chair watching him sleep, but there was something so calming about it. Their simmering animosity toward each other lately was hurting her heart, even if she could understand both sides of the arguments, to a certain extent. The strangest part about the fights, though, was how they seemed to have deepened and refined her love for him. 

That was new, too--her admission to herself. She loved him. Her feelings were no longer an offshoot of the character adoration she’d had; they’d grown from knowing him personally, from watching him interact with others, from being on the receiving end of his careful thoughtfulness. Now that their friendship was hitting a rough patch, those feelings had matured and grown stronger under the test of those struggles. His behavior wasn’t scaring her away.

As she watched him and felt herself grow sleepier, his face changed from a slack, peaceful sleeping expression to one of concern. He was clearly having a nightmare. Elodie bit her lip, not wanting to interfere, and not wanting to get up and leave him when he was in distress, either. His face showed signs of fear, his arms twitching, a small noise coming from his throat, and then it appeared that he experienced something in the dream that was a shock. He went limp, almost, and opened his eyes, his chest moving with the power of his deep, frightened breathing.

The angle of his head meant that he was looking directly at her, when he woke up. Elodie felt a thick sense of regret for having presumed so much--he had clearly been sleeping when she had sat down to face him, and her blanket showed that she’d intended to remain there at least some time. To her surprise, though, Remus’s sleep-hazed eyes didn’t show anger, disappointment, or surprise. He blinked at her, lifted a hand to rub at his face, and then mumbled something inaudible.

Elodie cast  _ Finite  _ with as little movement as she could, trying not to look as massively curious on the outside as she was on the inside.

“--was a bad one,” Remus was muttering. He turned his body on the couch, rolling over, which told Elodie more than anything else that he might have seen her on his chair, but his sleepy brain hadn’t really registered her actual presence. “She’s safe. Safe. G’back to sleep.”

She hadn’t imagined he had nightmares, but then, everyone had nightmares every so often, didn’t they? Remus Lupin of all people in the world had the right to have nightmares, despite probably wishing  more than once that he could relinquish that right. Pulling the blanket up around her shoulders, Elodie turned to walk back to bed, but at the last minute she turned and cast a warming charm on Remus. It was a mild one, and it wouldn’t last until he woke, so he wouldn’t know, she hoped. Short of climbing onto the couch to hug him, it was the best thing she could think of to do in comfort.

 

8888888888888888

 

Over the next few days, Elodie spent most of her time at Horace Slughorn’s house. He had offered to tutor her in an attempt to help her recover her ‘lost’ memories, and Elodie found that she truly enjoyed his company, as eccentric and enthusiastic as he sometimes was. The most valuable part of spending time with him, though, was that he was not bothered by what she saw as her inexperience in Potions. She’d done a lot of studying during the month of September, hoping to both feel confident enough in her brewing Wolfsbane as to not need help in as soon as a few months, but also to feel like less of a fraud, when it came to potions in general. So she wasn’t ignorant to most of the terms Horace used during his lessons, and she actually found that she had a talent for the art. 

Elodie also enjoyed not feeling the need to be constantly untruthful with Horace. He already knew she had a close friend who was a werewolf (since that was very nearly the first thing he’d learned about her, from her letter), he could see the evidence of her inability to ‘remember’ complex potionsmaking, and instead of quizzing her on what had happened, he had a way of ‘live and let live’ that she really appreciated. 

“Well! That’s been four difficult processes we’ve worked through today already,” Horace told her. “I say ‘already,’ but I think it has once again been over ten hours you’ve been here!”

“Your teaching makes the time fly by, and I’m not just saying that,” Elodie said, lifting her hands out of the customized soaking cleanser that Horace had provided for after their ingredients lesson. They’d prepared some difficult and dangerous materials, and Elodie was never going to look at a carrot the same way again after learning how to slice one so thinly that she could see through it. That skill had helped when they’d moved on to slicing various roots and horns.

Horace and Elodie were silent for a few minutes as they cleaned up the mess they’d made, Elodie being careful to ask about any leftover ingredients that might still be useful before clearing them away. When they were done, Horace sat down on his stool and sighed happily.

“I’d missed teaching, but I didn’t miss the inane chattering of schoolchildren, so I must thank you for this opportunity, Elodie, dear.”

“I’m very grateful, despite how I probably look right now,” Elodie said, holding her hands out and looking down. She was covered in a multitude of goo, dust, fluid, and colored stains. “You said to wear something I wasn’t fond of, and you weren’t kidding!”

“You can try to launder them, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope. At least you’ve now got an outfit to wear precisely for brewing!” he teased her. “You should get moving, it’s full moon night, you know.”

Elodie looked up sharply. “Really?” She had completely forgotten the day.

“You’ve still got two hours, I’d wager, but yes--what a compliment!” Horace beamed at her and clapped his hands together once. “You  _ must _ have had a good time if I’ve brought you to forgetting the full moon. I’ll wait for your Owl tomorrow, in case you’d like to sleep in.”

Elodie nodded and gathered up the things she would get to take home with her. By the time she walked through the Floo, she was a ball of anxiety. The wards she’d placed were basically ‘fire and forget,’ but in order to ‘fire,’ the werewolf would need to know they were there. She rushed into the shower and spelled the water as warm as she could stand it. The sense memory of being sad about something and just letting herself stand under the water until it ran cold came to her, but that wasn’t possible in her new world. In this world, a spell kept the water warm, and she didn’t know if there was a limit. She probably didn’t have time to find out, either.

“I fucking  _ love _ magic,” Elodie said out loud as she stepped out on the (spelled warm) bath rug and wrapped a (spelled warm) towel around herself.

“Warm towels, right?” Sirius’s voice said outside the bathroom door. “And no, before you ask, I’m not snooping. I was heading from my room and heard your happy moans and recognized them as just like mine. Warm towels are  _ the best.” _

“They really are,” she said, laughing in delight at how fun it was to share simple everyday joys like that.

It had taken her a little time to get used to dressing in the bathroom instead of her own bedroom, but that had been the case at Hollyfield too. It was a warm evening, and Elodie had picked her only shorter skirt, which did not reach her knees. The top was another warm-weather item, but it was way more skimpy than she’d expected when she’d grabbed it. The book for alterations was downstairs in her bedroom, though, and she couldn’t quite remember what to do to lengthen it. There was no way she was going to risk what little fabric she had.

In the mirror, though, Elodie made a bit of a shocked face. She looked like someone heading out clubbing or something, she thought. If the clothes she’d just changed out of weren’t so miserably stained with God only knew what, she’d have transfigured one of them into something to cover herself, if only to prevent the  _ years _ of ribbing she was likely to get from Sirius if he saw her.

Elodie peeked out of the bathroom door, feeling ridiculous. She didn’t see either of her housemates, and she went to wrap the shirt she’d worn to Horace’s house around her midriff to cover herself, but changed her mind when she really looked at it. It was… truly disgusting.

“Own it, Elodie,” she whispered to herself, and started to walk briskly toward the door to the basement.

It was just her luck that they were both in the kitchen and not anywhere else in the house. Remus had his back to her as he chatted with Sirius at the dinner table, eating something Elodie was frankly grateful she wouldn’t need to try any of. Sirius, though--Sirius could see her very clearly, she could tell by the gobsmacked look on his face. She put a finger in front of her lips and struggled with the door for a few seconds until she realized why.

“Sirius Orion Black!” she shouted, grabbing her wand out of her pile of clothes and pointing it at him from across the room. Which of course caused Remus to turn around.

“So kill me for admiring the view?” Sirius said defensively.

“This door is  _ never _ locked, you-- you--” she was at a loss for words, but Sirius’s face was so conflicted that it was making her laugh in spite of her frustration with him. He looked both fascinated and contrite. “You know this is exactly the situation Molly Weasley was worried about, just the other way around.”

“Wait, what?” Sirius said.

“She thought I’d decided to clothe, feed, and house you because I was dazzled by all of your bad boy glory, I think?” Elodie told him, snickering.

“But instead,  _ I’m _ dazzled by all of  _ your--” _

“Stop. Unlock the door for her, please,” Remus said. He didn’t sound angry, but he clearly was not finding as much amusement in the situation as they were.

Sirius pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door while Elodie tried to glare at him with narrowed eyes.

_ “Thank  _ you,” she said airily, spinning around to face the door.

“Holy shit,” Sirius said in a stunned voice.

With her hand on the doorknob, and without turning around, Elodie said very quietly, “It spun up really high, didn’t it.”

“Yes,” two male voices replied.

Elodie ran down the stairs as fast as she could.

She’d found a respectable short sleeved shirt that actually covered her stomach within a minute of shutting her bedroom door, and was in the midst of pulling off the tiny tight shirt she’d been wearing when someone knocked on her door.

“One sec!” she called out, grabbing the new shirt and pulling it on as quickly as she could. She walked over to her door and said, “Sirius, honestly, you’re going to make--” but the words she was saying died in her throat when she got it open.

It wasn’t Sirius.

“Oh, I should have given you more time,” he said, looking her up and down. The air of disapproval still clung to him, and it set her teeth on edge.

“No, I’m fine, come in if you need to,” she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. Had he expected her to use magic to change? Even if she had used magic, he hadn’t given her much time to. Unless he had expected her to feel as much shame for her own appearance as he seemed to think she should, and thought she’d rush? What a contrast to Sirius’s frank and rather fun appraisal!

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t bother you but it’s getting late,” Remus said.

“Right,” Elodie said, her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I got distracted by the hot water.”

She looked up and saw him shake his head in confusion before he continued with what he’d come to her for. “I know there are some things you have set up in there,” he nodded toward the cage, outside her door and around the corner. “I wanted to make sure you were either going to sleep upstairs or had installed a very powerful silencing charm.”

“I hadn’t considered sleeping upstairs, but I worked with Albus to make sure there were strong charms to both protect you and protect us,” Elodie said, straightening the hem of the shirt she’d pulled on in a hurry. She walked over to her door and gestured for him to walk through it.

“You’re done?” he asked, looking down at her clothing again. She hoped he noted the angry tilt to her chin when his eyes made their way back up.

“I’m comfortable. I can’t say whether or not you are, but that won’t matter in, what? A half hour?” she said in a confrontational voice.

“Nearly,” he said, predictably avoiding the uncomfortable part of her statement. “Would you tell me what the two of you set up, please?”

Elodie tried to connect her emotions back up to the way she’d felt when she and Albus had finished casting the wards and charms around the room. She’d felt so full of happiness that she’d done something that would make Remus’s transformation easier. She shut her eyes and reached out, mentally, for that joy, pulling it in toward herself and wrapping herself up in it figuratively, hoping that her attitude might rub off on Remus.

“Let’s make sure you get your last dose, first?” she said, smiling at him. She walked over to the Potions Lab and dipped out the last of the Wolfsbane into a glass.

When she came back out into the main room, she saw that Remus had his wand out and was casting diagnostic charms. She felt her facade of cheerfulness crumble a bit. Couldn’t he have waited just a minute for her to explain? Elodie ground her teeth, focusing on the pressure as a distraction as she walked over and held out the potion. 

At least he took it, downing it in a quick, long gulp. When Elodie handed him a smaller cup full of sparkling water, he hesitated a minute, and then downed it, too. They’d started this as a palate cleanser this past week, and he’d told her it worked pretty well. Unfortunately, once she was done cleaning the cups and putting them away, there was nothing standing in the way of the conversation she’d been dreading.

“There are more wards here than I expected,” Remus said. He was faced away from her, and his voice didn’t  _ sound _ like he was all that upset, but with Remus, one had to judge based on body language as well as tone of voice.

“Yes, well…” Elodie let her voice trail off a bit, but then she gathered up her courage and walked farther into the room toward him. “I went to ask about the Hollyfield wards, because I thought they were so clever, with the way you could just activate them when you tap your--”

“You--” Remus spun around and looked at her as if she’d just told him she’d learned how to grow gold from buried mushrooms. “Are you telling me you went back to the boarding house and  _ asked _ someone about them?”

“I don’t understand--I thought you  _ liked _ the wards at Hollyfield?”

Remus walked toward the cage, turned, and walked half of the way back, all the while breathing heavily and looking upset. Elodie bit her lip, anxious. He had hardly ever wanted to talk about the full moon night with them over the past month, and now he was essentially trapped into the conversation, with less than an hour to go before it rose. Would Moony’s influence make him mean, as Sirius told her it could?

“Just because I found them useful doesn’t mean I wanted you to go meddling! Albus and I could have put together something adequate without your help!” Remus said harshly.

Before she answered him, Elodie marched over to the cage and tapped her wand on the place that activated the silencing wards. This was a gamble, because she knew it would infuriate Remus (not that he was far off, at the moment), but he wouldn’t lift them either, not with what was coming.

“What the  _ hell--” _ Remus’s voice cut off but he didn’t stop walking toward her with large, purposeful strides. When he stopped, he was mere inches away, towering and  _ furious. _ She finally started to regret how she was dressed. She felt very exposed.

“First of all, ‘adequate’ is not a thing I want you to have to settle for in your own home,” Elodie said, looking up at him with equal anger. “Secondly, Sirius doesn’t need to hear us. You’re angry at  _ me, _ not him.”

“This is exactly why I’m angry, Elodie! It’s not your decision whether ‘adequate’ is enough! It’s  _ my _ life!” 

The force of his words yelled practically in her face made her reach back to hold onto one of the thick, flat bars of the cage for support.

“It stopped being just your life when you started having friends who cared enough to try to make it better for you!” she yelled up at him, lifting herself up on her toes at the word ‘better.’ “It stopped being just your life when you were eleven years old at Hogwarts! It’s only a measure of how fucking stubborn you are that you’re still not understanding this!”

“Just because you’ve read some history books and talked to Albus doesn’t mean you have  _ any _ idea what my life has been like,” Remus snapped at her.

Elodie  _ laughed. _

She knew how it probably looked to him, she knew she was risking actually genuinely hurting him for it, but she couldn’t help herself. Seconds later, though, she shut her eyes and turned away, feeling the weight of guilt hit her after glimpsing the look on his face. He looked shocked and hurt, those emotions showing through on his face despite the very great anger he’d displayed just minutes earlier. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t-- I’m sorry,” she said, letting go of the cold metal of the cage to step forward, to reach out with her warmer hand. A split second before she started toward him, Remus had turned away from her, so he probably hadn’t seen her coming when, with her heart in her throat, Elodie placed her hand on his forearm.

Remus flinched and walked away from her so quickly he was almost a blur.

Elodie tried to see this as a reasonable response to what she’d just now said, but the cumulative amount of times he’d shied away from her touch caused her to get very angry with him. Angry enough to lash out cruelly  _ again. _

“No need to run from me, Remus,” she said in a voice that was low and wounding. “It’s my mother that had Dragon Pox, not me.”

His gasp was audible.

Her heart softened, but only slightly. “All right, that was harsh, I’m sorry. But I want you to know just how hurtful it is when you shy away from me like I’m going to contaminate you, or something! You didn’t used to--but ever since the second time we met Sirius in that meadow, you just… you’ve never treated me the same.”

He didn’t speak, but his eyes had widened, when she mentioned the meadow.

“Something happened, and I know we all agreed it was important to forget, but I wouldn’t have gone along with that if I’d known you’d be so spooked by whatever it was!” she said, her voice getting louder in response to his silence. “I feel like I need to go up there and ask Sirius to remove the charm. I need to know what--”

“Don’t, Elodie. Just--” he sounded upset, his voice cutting out as if he was so desperate that he’d lost the ability to speak.

She clenched her hands into fists and turned away from him, toward the bars. He didn’t even remember, but the spectre of what it  _ could _ have been was enough for him to sound that frantic. Meanwhile,  _ she _ remembered every glorious detail, and all she wanted to do was to go back and relive it. Or maybe just go back and punch that damned fairy out cold.

Suddenly, a hand spun her around, and she came face to face with Remus.

“Promise me you won’t ask him to do that,” he said forcefully, one hand gripping her arm painfully. “Promise me.” His eyes were ringed with gold, as she’d known they would be, but not enough to excuse this.

“Why! You don’t even know what you’re missing!” she snarled at him. “I can’t imagine it would fix anything anyway, look at you! What kind of a relationship even is it when the two people only touch each other in anger!”

He held his rough grip on her upper arm for a few seconds before saying, bleakly, “The kind I had with my mother.” He walked through the open door of the cage area and leaned his back against the inside bars. “She didn’t want to be infected. She’d keep from hugging me, kissing my head, even, but sometimes her anger overwhelmed her fear.”

Even though her arm still stung a bit, Elodie’s anger was pushed away by the misery Remus was describing. As someone whose temper quite often overwhelmed her better judgment, Elodie understood exactly the kind of behavior his mother had shown, which made it all the more horrible for her to picture. 

She walked over to where Remus was standing, though she stayed on the outside of the bars. 

“You have to know that I don’t want to be like your mother. I’m  _ not _ afraid of being infected, or I wouldn’t be standing here at this hour of this particular day,” she said, looking at his profile through the gaps between the flat, wide bars. Her voice was quiet, but still full of passion, if not anger. “And when I make choices that result in a good result for you that’s not me acting like your mother, either.”

He turned to look at her, and she saw that the golden ring of Moony’s influence had advanced, but not all the way.

“I even love you, but not like your mother. I love you as a friend cares for another friend, and--”

It had been hard for her to vocalize, since she knew she loved him in more than one way, that the kind of philial love she felt for him was only a facet of it. As she spoke, though, his eyebrows had furrowed and then he did something incredibly strange. He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, his hazel eyes were clear. No gold. She opened her mouth to comment on what she’d just seen, but he turned his body fully toward her, one hand grabbing the bar just beside her, spanning it with the largeness of his hand.

_ “Don’t _ do that. People who do that get hurt. Every. Single. One of them!” he yelled at her, pausing after some words for emphasis.

“D-did you just push your wolf away to yell at me? You can do that?” Elodie was stunned.

“If it’s important enough,” he confirmed, pushing back from the bars and striding away from her. She felt slapped. She also wondered if Sirius had punched him at least once while he was golden-eyed Moony just because Remus himself had deserved it. He hadn’t even allowed himself to say the word ‘love,’ she noticed.

“Maybe the people who love you get hurt because  _ you _ hurt them. Ordinary people can hurt their loved ones, they don’t have to see themselves as a monster to do that, you know,” Elodie said, the words feeling like they were being said around a bubble of something in her throat. It was such an intense feeling that she couldn’t tell if there really was something there or if her emotions had caused her throat to start to close up, like an allergic reaction to being cruel to him.

She decided to take out her aggression on the cage itself, hauling her hand back to punch it, knowing she could cast a healing charm afterwards, or have Sirius do it.

The punch didn’t land on something hard.

Elodie opened her eyes. She’d punched Remus’s hand--no.  _ Moony’s  _ hand, she saw; looking up at him she saw the full-on golden eyes that told her Remus was no longer with her. Whether he had deliberately checked out to avoid her or Moony had gotten too strong to fight off, she didn’t know.

“You’re angry,” Moony said in his direct way of talking. “Show me.”

Elodie had been expecting an explosion of pain and possibly blood, when she’d decided to punch the metal bar. She felt an odd feeling of loss, and she turned to Moony, shaking her head. She felt like even though he was much bigger, even though he was a  _ werewolf, _ her anger tonight in this moment could hurt him.

“Show me,” he repeated, his golden eyes narrowed. He dropped his hands to his sides.

Elodie shut her eyes for a few seconds, picturing Remus’s face when he’d yelled at her that people who ‘did that’ got hurt. He either hadn’t believed her when she said she loved him, or he did, but he didn’t think it bore repeating. When she opened her eyes, she raised her fists and pounded at Moony’s chest, vocalizing her frustration in a long, drawn out roar of anger and hurt. Moony stood still, only faltering once, and that was when she took both hands and shoved him as hard as she could away from her.

“Ellie,” Moony said, and  _ oh,  _ the way that name sounded from his lips in particular made her feel a little weak. “Show me what’s not his?” He grinned, then; his eyes were full of what could only be described as seductive mischief. He stood still, waiting, and she was drawn to him as surely as if he’d hexed her. She wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t.

Somehow, instead of the insecurity she usually felt around Remus, Elodie felt confident as she stepped up to stand in front of Moony. He wouldn’t turn her away. He  _ wanted _ this. He was looking at her with a mixture of anticipation and desire, and she remembered what he’d told her. ‘ _ Show me what he can’t have’ _ was basically what Moony had said, and he was right. Remus would  _ never _ look at her with that kind of confidence, that much desire, not without a lot of work. She wasn’t his, no matter how desperately she wanted to be.

She smiled at Moony then, reaching up to grab two handfuls of his shirt. She’d never manhandle Remus--not that she’d ever get to, of course. But this was nothing. Stress free.

“Want?” Moony said, smiling in a predatory, lust-filled way that sent her blood thumping with anticipation.

_ “Gods,  _ yes,” she said, and tugged him down, letting go of the front of his shirt to curl her fingers into the collar. When she was close enough to his ear, with his hands finally,  _ finally _ coming around her, she whispered, “Own me. Make me just yours.”

Moony made an agonized groaning sound. He slid one hand down to her ass and pulled her against him with enough force to puff the air out of her. She dragged her fingernails along the back of his neck with one hand, seeking his mouth with hers. For all the primal lust she felt they both embodied in that moment, the kiss itself was initially gentle. He lifted her up just like she’d hoped he would, and the light, teasing, sucking kisses he was giving her degraded into dominant sloppiness as soon as he found the angle he wanted. He pressed his body against hers and she felt how much he wanted her, knew he could sense in multiple ways how much she wanted him.

He started walking, then, and Elodie shivered as he nipped kisses along her neck, raising her up for him as he walked as if she weighed nothing. With both hands under her, her legs tight against his sides, Moony lifted her further, his lips hot against her chest. Her skirt was riding so high as to be non-existent. Elodie curled over Moony’s head, breathing in the smell of his hair, gasping in his ear. Then, he set her on a high wooden desk that sat against the wall, near the cage, at the corner of the basement. The slide as he brought her back down put paid to what was left of her skirt as an obstacle between them.

He was standing against the desk, and she tried to pull him to her by wrapping a leg around him. “Closer,” she said against his lips, feeling almost as though if she could get him close enough, she’d stop seeing Remus in him, since he’d never do any of these things. The friction wasn’t enough, and she shocked herself at the thought, that she would consider what she was considering, but she wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to make her come, as if that was some sort of ultimate revenge against his better self.

“Shhh,” Moony said, then, “Yes.” At this, he slid his hand down to where she was pressing against him, to underneath the place where her ridiculous skirt was bunched against his leg. He didn’t hesitate at the hitch of her breath when he turned his hand around, angling his fingers to slip inside her underwear and cup her, boldly. He didn’t move, and she pressed her forehead against his neck, overcome with sensation and want. Elodie felt like he was waiting for her to move against him, as an unspoken agreement that yes, this was really what they were doing.

She was enthusiastically all for it, and she showed him by rolling her hips against his hand at the same time she lifted her head and whispered “Yes,” at his ear. His response was immediate. His other arm came around her back, his hand tangling in her hair in a way that made her groan with delight. He slipped a finger inside her, and just knowing who it was that was touching her so intimately made her clench around him in anticipation of the pleasure to come. The very Moony way that he slid his nose along her neck and up beside her ear on his way to kissing her left her shivering against him. His body was slanted over hers, and when she just briefly opened her eyes right as his nose brushed against her nose, she saw his golden eyes, fully dilated. They were beautiful, and when she arched her body up to press against his hand as much as she could as she kissed him, she saw the way her movements affected him. A growl rumbled in his throat, and his eyes rolled up as the lids closed, as if he were as fully invested and overcome as she was. Given the power and confidence Moony always showed, this was enough to push her right to the edge, and the way his tongue pushed against hers, dominating her mouth--that was what sent her into convulsions against him.

Moony stroked her through it, his kisses as fierce and uncompromising as always, and Elodie felt both powerful and wrecked. She raised her hand to bury it in his hair as he straightened his body in preparation for stepping away from her and toward the cage. As he moved back, her hand slid down and away, and he pressed his own against it for a few seconds, then he turned and walked over to the cage, walking inside and placing both hands above his head, against the bars, bracing himself.

“Moony,” she said, standing unsteadily and shaking her head at his distress.

“No time,” he rasped out. “Go. Be safe.”

Their eyes met again, and she saw that he wanted her. She could tell he was holding himself back, and she knew he was right about the time.

“The door,” she said, her voice sounding weak and thready. She lifted her wand and tapped it three times at the corner of the cage, activating the wards that would keep them both safe and separated for the rest of the evening. He moved then, toward the door, and the clanging sound as it slammed was completely inaudible, even though she could feel the shockwave of air. 

Moony was panting, now, and she was finally afraid, but not afraid for herself as much as the fear of helplessness. She had things to say to him,  _ only _ him, and they were now completely impossible, as neither of them would be able to hear the other, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t going to even look human for longer than a few more minutes. She walked over to her bedroom door, and then looked back. He was still watching her, panting so violently that the breaths shook his whole body. She pointed at her door, then pointed to the stairs. Then, she pointed to her bedroom door again, and he nodded, then gestured with a clumsy armwave, as if to say, ‘hurry.’

Elodie went into her bedroom and shut the door, then she cast a few charms that she never bothered with before, including her own silencing charm. There were now at least four different types of barriers between her and Moony--iron bars, drywall with plaster, a human repelling charm, and finally, the turning over of a 28 day hourglass.


	19. Painful Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distracted by the previous day's events, Elodie splinches herself when Apparating home from Slughorn's house. Her housemates spring to action to take care of her.
> 
> Totally love the heck out of this chapter, I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions blood a bit in the beginning, but there is no gory description of injury. If you would like to see a an image of what I was picturing a splinch injury might look like when writing this scene, [there is an image of Ron's arm at this link](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Splinching).

As seemed to be her new habit, Elodie slept in on the day after the full moon. Remus didn’t need her to do anything to help him get back out of the cage, so she didn’t have any worries along those lines when she did wake up at 1 PM. She was shocked to see how late she’d slept, and felt like if she were still in America, she’d have stared at the clock in disbelief. Here, the readout just floated at the tip of her wand before drifting away. That just didn’t have the same effect as staring at a display until the readout was partially burned into your eyeballs.

Horace had told her to Owl him, but she Apparated over to his front porch straight after getting dressed.

“Bad night?” he said by way of introduction, when he opened the door.

“Can we work on something that’s not messy today?” she said.

“Into work-induced oblivion we shall soldier, my dear child,” Horace said, pulling her to his chest with a massive one-armed hug. “Medical potions, today, I think. We’ll feed you your own Pepper-up.”

They worked for hours, Horace showing her a quartet of frequently used medicinal potions, including Pepper-up, Skele-Gro, and two different healing potions. The Skele-Gro potion was difficult, and Elodie had to try three times to get something that resembled the right look and consistency. She felt very obstinate today, so she had refused to give up after the second batch. The Pepper-up had obscured her need for food until it was nearly seven PM, and Horace kicked her out. He sent her with a basket full of the potions they’d both made, and Elodie wondered if Remus would be angry with her for those, somehow. She felt like she’d somehow lost touch with the way they used to be together, and she was so distracted by that thought that she actually started crying right as she pictured the house to Apparate.

The emotional distraction was enough that she splinched herself. 

This was the thing she’d always dreaded, and it hurt like hell, right as she felt the final pull of her destination. The injury had to look bad, she could tell by the expression on Sirius and Remus’s faces when she landed in a heap in the middle of the living room, blood seeping from the wounds on her chest. 

Immediately, Remus burst into action, coming over to her to pick her up and carry her over to the couch. She saw Sirius whip out his wand, and items started dropping all around him in an arc as he conjured them. His raspy voice sounded worried.

“Stop, I’ll get it all over the couch,” Elodie said, the sight of her own blood making her feel dizzy. “Second shirt ruined in as many days,” she added, a ‘hnnngggg’ noise coming from her throat when she saw how red her light yellow shirt looked.

“You worry about the most inconsequential things,” Remus said, but he grabbed a towel from the growing pile around Sirius and threw it against his own chest. Then he lifted her back up against him, bracing her there with one hand as he cast a charm to protect the couch with the other. He smelled like Moony, and that ripped an equally large hole in her heart, right under where she’d splinched herself. Was she  _ cheating  _ on her love for Remus, with Moony? Had she taken advantage of Moony?  _ Could _ a person take advantage of a werewolf’s alter ego? These thoughts were too much for her right now, and she groaned, half frightened by how badly she’d hurt herself by being so distracted, and half wracked with guilt over what she’d done the night before.

“Here,” Sirius said, handing a bottle to Remus. “Dittany.”

Remus laid her back down on the couch, but the white towel he’d used to cover his chest for the few seconds he’d held her against him was brightly stained with her blood, and Elodie couldn’t stop staring at it.

“I need to move your shirt, Elodie,” Remus said, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Hey, focus, okay?”

“She could be going into shock, Remus, just--”

Sirius shouldered his way into the space in front of Elodie and reached for the neck of her shirt. He made eye contact with her, and she nodded. With his wand, he used a spell to make a cut in the fabric, and then Sirius ripped it open, dropping the two sides wide apart, so they could see her injury. When he backed away, Remus pressed a warm, wet towel to her chest. 

“Look at me,” Sirius said, when Elodie tried to look down at what Remus was doing. She wasn’t cold, but she felt like she was shivering. That was probably bad, she thought.  _ “Elodie!”  _ Sirius sounded angry, and she looked up at him. “Keep your eyes on me, all right?” he said to her, reaching down to brush her hair out of her face, petting her lightly. “I’m not angry. Neither of us is angry with you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Almost two towels’ worth, but I can see it now,” Remus said a while later, but she didn’t really understand him. 

“St. Mungos?” Sirius asked.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s a spiral, and shallow, so a lot of blood, but not much deep damage,” Remus answered.

“I should have used the Floo,” Elodie said, shutting her eyes against the tears that were already welling up again. “I knew I was upset.  _ Stupid.” _

Sirius moved to sit on the arm of the couch beside her head, his hand resting more firmly against her face. It was warm and lovely, and Elodie felt comforted by the gesture, and kind of grounded to reality by it, as well. She looked over at Remus, and her breath caught. He had her blood on his shirt, despite his earlier precautions, and he was a picture of pure concentration. He was completely focused on her, his hands moving in a rhythm of dabbing her wound and gently applying the Dittany.

“Do we have any pain potions?” Remus asked, without looking up from what he was doing. “I’m reaching the center and it’ll hurt, the numbing charm won’t be enough.”

“Basket, on the floor next to where I landed,” Elodie said. “I spent all day making them, ironically enough.”

“Spent all day ignoring me and brewing pain potions? I must have yelled at you a lot after the wolf took over,” Remus said, finally looking at her face.

She was starting to feel tired, her chest hurt, and she still wasn’t completely done crying over him, so she said, “You shouldn’t tease me about that.”

He looked back down at her wound, then flicked his eyes back up to meet hers again. “Sorry. You were… very angry.” He set down the bottle of Dittany and pulled away from her to get up. Then, as if realizing he might look like he was angry right now, he put a hand on her arm. “I’m going to get you some pain potion, okay?”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling overwhelmed again. These two men were both powerful wizards with deep scars from their own issues, mentally and physically, and right now they were completely focused on her. There was something very humbling about that.

When Remus came back with the potion, he held it away from her for a minute, making eye contact with her again.

“I need you to hold still, so I am going to hand this to Sirius to feed it to you, all right? This isn’t because there’s anything more to worry about,” he said quickly, as he handed the potion to Sirius, who took it with his other hand. “It’s because some of the areas where your skin is broken are very thinly attached to each other. I got most of them with the Dittany, but if you move, they might re-injure before the spell and the herb are finished working.”

“That’s not scary at  _ all, _ ” Elodie said sarcastically, her voice sounding stronger to her own ears.

“Here we go,” Sirius said, drawing her attention to the bottle he was holding to her lips. Eyes on his, she started drinking, and he poured steadily until it was gone. Immediately, she felt more sleepy than she already had felt, but she also felt lighter, as if the potion had drawn away all of the weight from her blood supply. She looked from Sirius over to Remus again, and saw that he was watching her and waiting, seemingly, for the potion to take effect.

“Do you know, I made this--and I’m certain it works, because I’m starting to feel  _ fantastic,” _ Elodie said conversationally to Remus. “I made this, but I don’t know how it works? For all I know it really  _ is _ taking all of the pain receptors out of my bloodstream, or something.”

“It’s working, for sure,” Sirius said, his voice full of humor.

“Oh, shut it,” Elodie said, tiredly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back to your full insult-bearing capacity this time tomorrow, I promise,” Sirius said in the same kind of soothing voice someone would use when talking to a cat or a baby.

It was difficult to pointedly ignore a person when you were lying on a couch in the middle of having a magical injury repaired by the man you were madly in love with, but Elodie gave it a try. This mostly involved staring at Remus, who was again focused on her chest, his hands moving in small, circular gestures. She could actually tell the moment when he realized she was watching her, because he started to smile, just slightly, the expression almost swallowed up by the strength of his concentration.

Then, Elodie tucked in her chin (which was easier now that Sirius had moved his hand from her face), and tried to get a glimpse of what Remus was doing.

_ “Were _ you avoiding me?” Remus said in a voice a little bit too loud.

“Merlin, Remus, do you think you could distract her with something  _ other _ than the way you two have been sniping at each other for weeks?” Sirius said, his hand coming down to cover her eyes. “And you! You do not want to look. You seem like the kind of person who can simultaneously know with her  _ brain _ that she’s fine, and yet freak out with her emotions when she sees just how close to ‘not fine’ she got. Stare at Remus, if you must, just not at his hands.”

Elodie couldn’t hide her blush, so she just lay still and felt the way the embarrassment at Sirius’s implication spread across her cheeks, into her hairline and down her neck.

Remus leaned closer to look at something, and Elodie realized that if she answered his question right now, he couldn’t really snipe at her, as Sirius had called it.

“I was, actually. I thought you were jealous,” Elodie said.

At hearing this, Sirius actually got up and walked away from her, and at first she was confused. When she heard him laughing like a madman in the kitchen, she understood what had happened. He must not have wanted to shake her while he laughed.

“Jealous?” Remus asked mildly. His cheeks were slightly pinked, his jaw was clenched, and he was  _ not _ looking at her. Elodie filed that reaction away, and put him out of his possible misery.

“Yes, I think you felt like Sirius was having too much fun talking to the new girl. So I made myself scarce for a while,” she said. 

_ Now _ he looked up at her. “Wait, you thought I was--” Then, Remus tipped his head sideways and made an odd sort of frowning face. “I might have been, actually. I’m almost done here, you’ve been really patient,” he added.

“It hurts, still, but it feels like the part that hurts is possibly in a different city,” Elodie said. “It’s really strange, I’m not sure I like it.”

“You like it far better than feeling this, trust me. I splinched my kneecap once. I had to go to St. Mungos and they actually had to do some strange time vortex spell to repair it,” Remus said.

“That’s--  _ Ow!  _ \--fascinating,” Elodie winced.

“Yes, sorry about that, had to do a, not sure what it’s called, but it generates a scab, where skin has been… um.” Remus looked very uncomfortable, and he turned and started messing around with something on the floor.

“I’m going to take that reaction as, ‘what I had to do would make you throw up if I actually described it’ and honestly, I’ll pass on that description, thank you for taking care of me?” She ended up ending the sentence with a question, but she didn’t really expect an answer from him.

Remus had found what he was looking for, and when he was facing her again, he looked at her, his eyes traveling over her face a few times before he spoke, in a way that made her blush again, before he’d even said anything to her.

“I’m really sorry you got hurt, but I think you’ll recover from this quickly. It’s mostly superficial skin damage,” he said. Then, he held up a white cloud of what looked like gauze, before he started carefully laying it on her chest. “I would always take care of you, no matter what the circumstances,” he said quietly. “Can you sit up?” he asked then, and as she tried to do so, Sirius came in from the kitchen and leaned over to help her from the back of the couch.

“Oh,” was all Elodie could manage to say, as sitting up showed her all the ways that healing flesh could feel terrible when moved. With Sirius’s help, though, she was able to sit up enough for Remus to wrap a length of gauze around her chest, under and then over her shoulder, to cover and protect her wound. When they were done, Remus magicked away her ruined shirt.

“Could I wear a bathrobe, or…”

“That’s a good idea, come to think of it,” Remus said, and turned toward the open door to the basement. He tried  _ ‘Accio Elodie’s Bathrobe _ ,’ but nothing happened.

“I think it’s actually Molly’s old one,” Elodie told him, embarrassed. 

“Not to worry,” he said, and  _ Accio’d _ his own.

Just as Remus and Sirius were about to help her put it on, she held up one hand, then winced as even that movement had hurt. It seemed that the skin on her chest had pressure points scattered throughout her whole damn body, she thought.

“Close your eyes, both of you.”

“I will, but tell me why?” Remus asked. “Too much movement--”

“Oh, believe me, I know that, just from, I don’t know,  _ breathing, _ it feels like,” Elodie told Remus before he was able to object too much. “But I am  _ not _ wearing this fucking bra any longer. I thought I’d do the two of you the courtesy of warning you before I zapped it downstairs into a drawer.”

“Ellie, I know my reputation has materially damaged the argument I’m about to make, but…” When Elodie turned her head (ow) to look at Sirius, he didn’t look as amused as she would have expected if he’d been joking with her.

“Sirius,” Remus practically growled at the same time she’d turn to look at their housemate.

“She’s dosed, Remus. Letting her use magic to remove it is a bad idea, and I’m sorry to be the one to point that out,” Sirius said. He sounded apologetic and on edge, but Elodie couldn’t see his face very clearly.

“I hear you, Sirius, but I can’t use my arms,” Elodie said bluntly. “And I  _ like _ this bra. So neither of you are going to make it disappear, or you’ll come bra shopping with me when I’m healed.  _ Without _ a Notice Me Not charm.”

The effort of being so vehement while still very much under the influence of a strong healing potion was exhausting, and Elodie had to stop paying attention to anything other than keeping herself upright. She could tell by the intense look on Remus’s face that he and Sirius were having some sort of facial expression conversation for which words were replaced by eyebrow gymnastics.

“Remus, I’m going to fall,” Elodie whispered, slumping toward him a little bit. 

“I’ve got you, Ellie,” he whispered, nodding at Sirius behind her, who did a kind of ‘hand off’ with Remus, guiding her upper body as she leaned, completely drained of energy, in his direction. Remus slid his arm around her and, with a muttered, “Forgive me?” he reached around her with his other hand, and undid the clasp of her bra. She knew that she could repair the strap with magic, so she nodded when Remus had to slice the one side to allow it to pull away from her body. Almost at the same time as she felt the blessed release of pressure from the band giving way, Sirius placed a bathrobe on her shoulders, and Remus moved as gently as he could to wrap it around her.

Elodie felt momentarily sorry for him when, in his attempt to preserve her modesty, he dragged the robe up over her shoulder too close to her injury, and she gasped, reached up instinctively and quickly to grab it, and then passed out in his arms.

8888888888888888

Elodie woke up on the couch with her blanket, her pillow, and another duplicate of her favorite blanket that must have been transfigured that way. Whoever had set her up in her little nest had taken care that her head was at the corner she usually sat at, so her view was the same as it normally would be, and the end table had been moved so that it was beside the couch, within her reach. She had absolutely zero intentions of trying to reach for anything on it right now, though. In fact, Elodie wasn’t entirely sure she even wanted to bother having her eyes open, and after a quick glance around, she did shut them again, doing a kind of internal welfare check on her body parts by moving them ever so slightly in turn.

Her feet and legs were fine, but in order to move anything else, she had to use the muscles in her stomach and chest or her upper arms, all of which were dimly painful in a way that told her she was still under the influence of pain potions or spells. She turned her head to the side, and she felt the bandage she was wearing pull a little bit, but it didn’t hurt, so that was something. As she turned her head the opposite direction, she heard someone walk into the room.

“You’re awake! Good,” Remus said. Elodie opened her eyes to see him standing beside the table he’d moved within her reach. He was wearing different clothes. “How are you feeling? It’s almost midnight. I wasn’t sure if you would sleep through to morning or not.”

“I want to be flippant and say something about feeling vindicated in my fear of Apparating, but honestly, I’m too tired and sore to be clever,” Elodie said. Her throat was dry, but she didn’t want to make Remus hold a cup for her.

Then, she remembered she could use magic.

“My wand?” she asked, feeling a bit panicked at the fact that she didn’t know where it was, exactly.

“On the table,” Remus said gently. “All right if I hand it to you?”

“Yes,” Elodie said immediately. It was only after she saw the way he reacted to her quick response that she remembered how private a person’s wand was, usually. Hardly anyone ever allowed another person to touch their wand. 

Remus hovered his hand over her wand, tracing its outline as though it were surrounded by a force field. “I should have put it on the couch with you,” he said as he hesitated.

“What’s different now?” Elodie asked, shutting her eyes against the brightness of the room. It felt like Remus had every possible light on, and then some. “Could you lower the light level, too? I’m having trouble adjusting.”

“Of course,” Remus said, wandlessly casting a quiet spell to dim the lights. “The difference is, you’re awake?”

“I can fake it, if it helps,” Elodie said. “Or just sit up really quickly, I’m sure that would knock me right--”

“Here,” Remus interrupted. Elodie opened her eyes to see him waiting for her to look over before picking her wand up gingerly and leaning over to set it on her lap. He rubbed his hands together when he was done, and she wasn’t sure he even knew he’d done that. She wondered what holding her wand felt like to him. She wondered what holding  _ his _ wand might feel like, for her.

“I, uh…” Remus began to say, then he turned and walked into the kitchen, coming back after a few seconds with one of the kitchen chairs, which he placed in her line of sight, beside the couch. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“No,” Elodie said, picking up her wand with as little movement as she could, before casting a conjuration charm to create a straw, then levitating the drink he’d left waiting for her close enough for her to suck some of it up. “This was thoughtful, thank you.”

“She said you might be thirsty,” Remus said, and then he shut his eyes for a second. “The mediwitch. That’s what I was about to tell you. I called someone in.”

Elodie’s cold water cup shook as she struggled to levitate it smoothly back to the table. Her blood had gone as cold as it was, on hearing what Remus had just said.

“You  _ what?!” _

“I was worried. Sirius was worried. You weren’t fit to be moved, and so we decided it was worth calling someone in to make sure you were okay,” Remus told her. His hand was up by his head, as he kept brushing his hair back and rubbing the back of his neck in two gestures she recognized as common for when he was upset or deeply engaged in a conversation.

“But,” Elodie was almost at a loss for words. Almost, but not quite. “You were upset at the fact that I bought a  _ camera _ because I might accidentally get a picture of Sirius--and you brought a stranger here?”

“I was not upset, I was caught off guard, and spoke too harshly,” Remus said, sounding irritated. Then, in a gentler voice, “You passed out, Elodie. We were worried.”

“You said that, and I am trying to understand, but--” Elodie broke off and started looking around the room, looking to see if it seemed like the house was home to three people, instead of the two the mediwitch would have seen when she came. “Were there dishes from three people out in the kitchen, still?” she asked, choosing not to try to crane her neck that far around to look, since she was reasonably certain that she wouldn’t have been able to see the counter even if she could turn that far without hurting herself.

“Elodie,” Remus said in an exasperated voice, and then he sighed deeply. “Ellie. The master bedroom has a  _ king sized bed _ in it. I’m sure she didn’t suspect anything.”

“Oh,” Elodie said, her face flushing red.

“Even if she did recognize me for any reason, and somehow, impossibly, connect me to Sirius Black--even when we rented the house, we presented as a couple. There’s no trail to follow.”

She hadn’t looked at him for nearly that entire conversation, but now she looked over and was surprised to see that he didn’t seem as embarrassed as she did. Given his past history of shying away from anything to do with people seeing them as a couple, Elodie decided she had to re-evaluate just how seriously the two men had taken her injury.

“I’m sorry I implied I didn’t trust your judgment,” she finally said.

“Your worry about Sirius just shows the kind of person you are, Elodie. You haven’t even asked about the mediwitch’s diagnosis.”

“Well,” Elodie said, biting her lip, “I mean, I didn’t wake up in a hospital ward. I think I can make a few assumptions.”

“You weren’t the only one making assumptions,” Remus said, shaking his head and looking at the ceiling for a second. When he looked at her again,  _ now _ he was blushing. “She said you shouldn’t have any reason to go anywhere for the next few days, possibly a week. No stairs, which she said shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, widening his eyes at that implication, which led on to the next, which was, “She also said that it would be best if you stayed here on the couch, but that if someone wanted to carry you to the big bed, she wouldn’t complain, as long as you felt up to it. So  _ that _ conversation happened.”

Elodie sat for a minute and thought about what to say. Knowing how Remus felt about people coupling them up in their head, she wanted to apologize to him for putting them in the position to need to do something that relied on that assumption to work. 

At the same time, she wasn’t all that sorry.

“Where is Sirius?” she asked, instead.

“Went for a walk. I should pull the curtains in my room, that was the signal for the all clear.” He got up and started for the hallway.

“Remus?” she said, her voice sounding far more plaintive than she’d intended.

“Hmm?” 

She really kind of loved when he did that. It was an unconscious sound that he seemed to only make when he was comfortable and happy, like a little indicator that all was mostly well in Lupin land.

“Thank you so much. And: I’m sorry.”

Remus put his hands in his pockets and leaned over as he said, gently, “You are most welcome, as always. And: stop it. It happens.”

An unwilling smile crept over Elodie’s face. His mirroring of her phrasing sometimes was something that never failed to make her feel, well… loved. Even if it was the love of a caring friend, it was something, and she absolutely cherished it. She levitated her drink over to sip some more of it before carefully putting it back, setting her wand down under a roll of the blanket so as not to be rough against her hand. Then she laid her head back against the pillow.

She told herself she was not, nope,  _ not _ going to picture Remus speaking in concerned terms with a magical medical professional who assumed his concern was for the woman he loved. Elodie thought she was very firm when she told herself that this imagining was completely and utterly off-limits. The problem was that the Seela Fairy incident wasn’t off-limits. The shed at Hollyfield wasn’t off-limits.

_ Last night _ wasn’t off-limits. And all of those incidents, every single one of them, were things that Remus Lupin did not remember. What had happened today he  _ would _ remember. Somehow, that made it far more real than the stolen moments she’d bargained with herself to experience. Today, he’d allowed someone to assume something far less obvious and sexual than what she’d done with his wolf self, and nothing would take that knowledge away from either of them.

Right before Elodie drifted off to sleep again, she permitted herself to picture, just once, an imagined look of care and concern shot over in her direction from Remus earlier in the evening, as he listened to the mediwitch tell him about her condition.

8888888888888888

“You drool.”

Within five minutes of waking up, with the sun having risen at some indeterminate time in the past, somehow  _ this _ was the phrase that Sirius Black had decided to greet her with. She opened her eyes to see that he was standing behind the couch, looking down at her.

“The mystery has already completely gone from this relationship,” Elodie told him, shutting her eyes again. “I think we should see other people.”

“Oh dear, you mean we were supposed to have been blind to every other person?” Sirius said, looking fake worried. “Because if so, I have some bad news.”

“Are you about to break my heart?”

“In more ways than one, I think,” Sirius said, clasping one hand over his mouth and lifting his eyebrows to the heavens. He looked left, then right, like a cartoon spy. “I… I  _ looked _ at Remus.”

“You  _ would _ be the jerk that took every darned word literally, wouldn’t you,” Elodie said, disgusted.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate the concept of a protein shake,” Remus said, walking into the room. He had an actual tea towel hanging over one shoulder. Elodie wanted to grab one end of it, hook it around his neck, and snog him senseless.

_ Domestic werewolves are a turn-on. Who knew? _ she thought to herself.

“This is related to the ‘raising my arms causes excruciating pain’ thing, isn’t it?” she asked Remus.

“Yes. To be honest, I think your innate sense of dignity would lead you to decline either of us feeding you something by hand,” Remus replied.

“Ooh,” Sirius said. “He thinks you have an innate sense of dignity.”

“Shhh, I might be able to milk this for a few days’ worth of his cooking,” Elodie mock whispered to Sirius.

“I’m glad you haven’t injured your sense of humor,” Remus said drily.

_ “Are _ you, though?” Sirius asked, resting a hip against the back of the couch.

“A protein shake sounds delicious, and you can take that at face value if you’d like,” Elodie said loudly, glaring at Sirius as though he had been the only one misbehaving.

“Coming right up.” Remus walked back into the kitchen.

“Damn, I didn’t come up with a good parting shot,” Sirius griped. “Hey, we were going to ask, what would have been your plan today? Is there anything either of us can get for you? Books? Crossword puzzles?”

“The hidden notebook full of lists that you think we don’t know about?” Remus added, setting a tall glass full of pink, thick liquid down at her table.

“Careful, she’ll add a new list about  _ you,” _ Sirius said to Remus.

“The answer to your question is,” Elodie interrupted loudly. “I wanted to get the photographs I took in Diagon developed. I’d meant to take the film with me to Horace’s sometime this week.”

“I know how to develop magical photos,” Remus said from the kitchen doorway. He walked into Elodie’s line of sight, and she was grateful that he had remembered how uncomfortable it was for her to turn around enough to see the kitchen. “If I can use the potion room, I’d be happy to do that for you.”

“I don’t know whether that would affect the Wolfsbane at all. Any airborne chemicals, I mean,” Elodie said, frowning. 

“Any potion maintenance this week?” Sirius asked her. She looked over at him and saw that he looked like he was half-crouching behind the couch.

“Did you put a chair back there or something?”

“Yes.” Sirius looked defensive. “I didn’t put it here, though. Remus did. The mediwitch said he was supposed to watch your breathing the first hour after she did some medical pain spell.”

Elodie was completely unsurprised when Remus walked back into the kitchen before she was able to ask him anything about what she’d just learned. When she looked back at Sirius, she could see a speculative look on his face. She didn’t want to be obvious about keeping secrets from him of all people, so she sought to distract him.

“I really screwed up,” she said, sighing. “I’m going to need to deal with this at some point. Sorry doesn’t really cut it, I think.”

“How many Muggle car accidents do they have? Splinching is a similar common injury. You’re teleporting yourself around, for Gaia’s sake!” Elodie’s surprised look must have been the reaction Sirius was looking for, because he pointed and laughed, not unkindly. “Your face! I need to swear by random gods more often.”

“When Muggles get hurt, they go to the doctor,” Elodie said to Sirius while trying to keep a straight face. “The doctors do not come to them!”

“Well that’s why they get so many injuries so often. If you were a Muggle and you could do something to make sure you weren’t as badly hurt, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s called First Aid,” Elodie pointed out.

“Well magical First Aid just happens to involve things that actually  _ help, _ instead of just putting plasters on top of things and sending you off to be looked at.”

“You know about band aids?” Elodie asked, surprised. She’d read about the British term for the bandage somewhere, once, and was glad the knowledge had stuck. ‘Plaster’ from where she was from was, basically, wall glue.

“All right, I looked it up,” Remus said, startling Elodie, who hadn’t heard him come in. He was holding a book she hadn’t seen before, and she couldn’t see the title, but the picture on the cover was of a stack of enchanted photographs. “There is no contraindication for any non-photosensitive, light sensitive potions. This passage in particular states that the development process leads to almost no vapor or chemical transfer into the air.”

Elodie was stunned. “You just happened to have that book in your room?”

“No, I--” Remus rubbed at the back of his neck. “I went to the library.”

“Just now?”

“I didn’t have anything else pressing to do,” he said. “It’s also been a good eight years since I’ve developed anything, I didn’t know how much catching up I needed to do for my promise.”

“You are just--” Elodie winced; she’d moved her arm too quickly when she’d brought a hand up to her mouth. The pleased expression on Remus’s face from finding the information for her was fading, replaced by trepidation. “Honestly the best, most thoughtful friend.” Elodie rushed to finish her sentence in a way that didn’t sound like wedding vows. “Thank you. The film is still in the camera, and it’s in the closet downstairs across from my bed. You slide the curtain open, then push the clothes hangers to one side, and that’s where the shelf is. It was nicely hidden from light, in there.”

“Thank you, I am sure I never would have found it.”

“There’s no hurry, just gratitude from my end,” she added. “I put it off for a few weeks myself, forgetting to ask Horace about the potion so often I almost wrote it on my hand. I think I’m half afraid the man with the arm problem will be able to look right at me, through the picture.”

“That’s portraits, not photos,” Sirius said, reminding her he was still in the room.

“Besides cooking for two ungrateful housemates, I don’t have much else to do today,” Remus told them as he walked back into the kitchen. “I might as well get started on the film.”

“Elodie isn’t as much ungrateful as she is a captive, trapped audience for your cooking,” Sirius called out after him.

“Sirius, honestly! Get off of my side,” Elodie protested.


	20. Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overheard conversation, a living in history moment, and a tentative question. Understatement, much?

Elodie slept a lot that first day on the couch. She suspected at least some of that had come from the pain medicine she was on. Remus told her during one of her waking moments that the injury itself wasn’t bad except for how much skin it had affected. There was a spiral cut that radiated out from her left chest, and rather than creating very deep slices, as often happened in splinchings, the wounding event had curved around and created multiple injuries that went across rather than down. This made healing easier, except for how elastic skin was. Every time she moved, it felt like there were ripple effects that caused her injuries to shift around and hurt. She had to stay still because that would lead to less pain, and far less scarring.

It was on hearing about the scarring that Elodie realized why Remus had been so quick to help her and so knowledgeable with what he’d done. He’d probably spent time watching others do the same for him, just for different reasons. Personally she knew that she herself would be delighted if she had been able to help a dear friend with something she’d watched be done often enough that she felt confident in helping.

That cheerful thought followed Elodie into sleep after lunch, and when she woke up next, it was to the sound of Remus and Sirius having a discussion. She was very, very comfortable, and so instead of moving, she decided to listen. At first, Elodie thought that she wasn’t fully awake, because each man’s voice drifted in and out, as if she herself were drifting between sleep and awareness, but after a few minutes, she finally understood what was going on.

The two of them must have cast a mild  _ Muffliato _ spell, the kind that ends up fading after a period of time. It was, if that was what they’d done, a clever and kind thing to do, because it meant that they could still chat in the room where she had to sleep. They wouldn’t have had to lower their voices--except now it was wearing off. Elodie feigned sleep out of sheer curiosity.

The next thing Sirius said told her that they definitely did not realize the spell had failed.

“Remus, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, and then his voice dropped away. Elodie was certain the on/off of the  _ Muffliato _ had kicked in again, but when she heard him speak again, it was as if he had indeed been silent that whole time. “I’m honestly not sure how to phrase this,” Sirius said, and he came out with a stuttering kind of laugh that sounded to Elodie’s ears as if he was struggling with something.

“I’d offer to help, but I have no idea what you’re going to say.” Remus’s voice came from his chair, across the room from Elodie’s favorite side of the couch.

“It’s just that I flirt a lot, and I  _ know _ I do, and I wanted to make sure that you were okay with it, in certain circumstances.”

Elodie fought to keep her breathing even. Was Sirius asking if he could flirt with Remus? When Remus did respond, it was after a period of time, during which Elodie determined that she absolutely did  _ not _ enjoy eavesdropping, even if it wasn’t her fault she could hear them.

She wasn’t going to stop right  _ now, _ though.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Remus said, amusement coloring his voice.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll always flirt with  _ you,” _ Sirius said, laughing. “I’m talking about our housemate.”

_ Long breath in, hold a second, and out. Long breath in, hold a second… _

“Why do you feel the need to ask me? Shouldn’t you ask her?” Remus said. His voice sounded precisely generic.

“I’m asking you because I don’t want to step on any toes,” Sirius rumbled, sounding grouchy. “You are so ridiculously touchy sometimes. If you like her, I’m saying I’ll hold back.”

_ and out. Long breath in, hold a second, and… _

Remus didn’t respond, and Elodie felt a trickle of adrenaline start to flow through her bloodstream, contaminating the flow and making it more likely she’d seem awake. It would figure, because she desperately ( _ in, hold a second, and out) _ wanted to know what his answer was. 

“Of course I like her, if I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t have agreed to live here,” Remus eventually said, pleasantly. Elodie felt like she was probably not the only person in the room who wanted to yell at Remus, in that moment. Sirius’s next response showed she was right.

“Do you need me to be more explicit? I’m asking if you want to--”

“I am not in the kind of life situation where I can answer that question, Sirius, and you know that,” Remus said, interrupting whatever fascinating thing Sirius had been about to say. “Please lower your voice. I’m sure she’d love to wake up to you asking something vulgar.”

“It’s not vulgar with someone you’re in love with, you absolute twit, and that’s what I’m asking you,” Sirius snapped, profoundly  _ not _ lowering his voice.

Elodie had forgotten to breathe, so she started again, despairing at the copious amounts of adrenaline that was now coursing through every freaking cell of her entire body. At least she wouldn’t need a pain dose for another million years, she told herself in consolation.

“I just said I’m not in the right kind of--”

“And I’m a fugitive from Azkaban, and believe me I won’t let that stop me from falling for her if that’s what ends up happening!” The couch shifted a little bit, and Elodie imagined that Sirius had stood up, behind it. Her steady breathing patterns had gone by the wayside but she didn’t think either man was paying attention to her at this point. 

“Sirius.” Remus sounded upset, but without seeing his face, Elodie had no idea in what context.

“This is your out. Take it, or don’t, but do not preach to me about a life not worth living. Do you want me to back off, or not?”

Sirius’s voice had changed location, and Elodie could totally picture him standing behind the couch, angry eyes flashing. The room fell silent except for the sounds of breathing, and Elodie had to remind herself that oxygen was necessary for life, given how important to her Remus’s answer could be. She started counting, if for no other reason than to give her something to focus on  _ other _ than whether the man she loved was about to vocalize whether he had any feelings for her whatsoever.

The next person to speak, though, was Sirius.

“All right then, thank you,” he said. He sounded as though he’d gotten a definitive enough answer to feel satisfied, but Elodie was certain Remus hadn’t spoken a word. It must have all been in facial expressions or gestures. The way Sirius had responded gave zero indication to her as to what the answer had been. Her breath hitched, and in the quiet, she knew that it had to sound like she was waking up. Elodie decided to roll with it.

“Ohhhh,” she said, opening her eyes.

“You okay?” Sirius said. She looked over at him and made a bit of a surprised face to see him standing so close.

“Yeah, nightmare,” she lied. “I don’t even remember what it was. It happens sometimes. Francis,” she offered, letting herself shrug a little, even though it hurt.

“Would you like some water?” Remus asked. Elodie took a deep breath before she turned toward him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. She didn’t dare hope to see some kind of deep regard that she had missed before, but she sure as hell didn’t hope  _ not _ to see it. Remus looked normal, solicitous and caring. She tried not to be disappointed.

“Water would be fantastic,” she said. “Supposedly you can summon it with your wand, but it’s the water you grew up with, I guess? So mine would be massively chlorinated and full of that fluoride stuff.” She grinned at him with all the mischief she could muster, and was gratified when he narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m sure you’re making that up, but now I am very curious to know from what sort of source one’s wand  _ does _ conjure water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“The photos are almost finished,” Sirius told her when Remus had left the room. “Remus made me promise not to look before you got to.”

“How long do they take to dry? Apparently the only place besides the bathroom I’m allowed to go is the master bedroom, or so the mediwitch that came told Remus,” Elodie said.

“Something something ‘sacrifices I’m willing to make for your recovery,’” Sirius said, teasing her.

Ordinarily Elodie would have smiled and joked back at him, but after the half-conversation she’d witnessed minutes before, the fact that Sirius was willing to flirt with her like that told Elodie something she really, really did not want to know. Remus must have told him he wasn’t interested.

“I meant that I can’t go downstairs, but if you’re saying you’ll swap the bed for the couch…”

Remus walked back in, carrying a glass of water, and Sirius’s face paled. “Never mind,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, but Sirius had started to walk toward his bedroom. He turned and walked backwards for a moment, saying, “Old habits die hard,” before disappearing down the hallway out of her sight.

“Something wrong?” Remus asked, and Elodie looked up at him in a state of mild shock. He started to lean over to put the glass of water at her table, and instinctively, Elodie reached for it. “Stop that, don’t hurt yourself,” he admonished her gently.

“Old habits die hard?” she said, mirroring Sirius’s odd statement.

“Yeah, what was that about? Doesn’t look like he’s coming back out, either,” Remus asked, coming around to sit on the chair behind the couch instead of settling into ‘his’ chair.

“Thank you, it’s hard to talk to you over there,” she said. He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I don’t know what Sirius’s deal is,” she said. For a few seconds, she hesitated to elaborate. If she told the truth, that Sirius had seemed to, maybe, flirt with her, what would Remus’s reaction be? Did she even want to know? What if her assumptions about Sirius’s basically ducking out of the room after teasing her about his bed were wrong, and Remus’s reaction showed that?

Did she want to know?

“Sorry,” she said to Remus. “I was trying to figure him out, and failed. He said that the pictures were almost done, and I said I couldn’t go downstairs, on orders from the mediwitch who said I could sleep in his bedroom. Then he joked about making sacrifices to encourage my recovery, you came into the room, and he ran away.”

“Sirius and his assumptions,” Remus muttered. He looked away from her; it appeared he was looking at where Sirius had gone, but there was something stilted about his movement that attracted her attention. It was as if he needed to be looking away, in those seconds, and once he’d regained his composure, he turned back in her direction. Elodie assumed, though, that she was busy reading far too much into a simple head turn than was possible to actually learn.

“He’s right, they should be done. I’ll be right back,” Remus said, using the back of the couch as a hand rest as he got up, then patting the same area once before walking away. In fewer minutes than she expected, he was back with a tray of photographs.

“All right, I didn’t think you’d do this so quickly or I would have warned you about my supposed love affair with Gringott’s bank. I took a  _ lot _ of pictures of it,” Elodie said, slowly raising her hand to cover her face in embarrassment. 

“Five out of fifteen isn’t  _ that _ many,” Remus said, cracking a smile. “Can I look at this one?” he held up the picture she’d taken as she left Borgin and Burke’s, with her face and the angry man behind her.

“Go for it,” she said, digging in the pile gingerly, looking for the image with the clearest view of the possible Death Eater’s forearm. Luckily Remus had chosen a shallow tray, so she didn’t have to lift her arms very high to reach inside it.

“You can’t hurt them,” Remus said, nodding at the pictures. “The development process adds a mild imperturbable. Shake them, drop them, whatever. It won’t mess anything up.”

“Found it.” Elodie held up the photograph. In it, the tall, angry man was shaking his arm in the face of the proprietor, who was trying to turn away. What Elodie had missed in the moment was the look of abject fear on Burke’s (or was it Borgin?) face. Her hunch looked like it was right.

The sound of a door opening told her that Sirius was ending his self-imposed exile. When he came in, she wordlessly held up (but not over her head) the photograph she had been examining.

“Igor Karkaroff,” Sirius said immediately. “Son of Merlin’s mangy  _ dog!” _

“You’re serious? Why does that name sound familiar?” Remus said, standing to walk around the couch and look over Sirius’s shoulder.

Elodie sat wide-eyed and looked inside the tray on her lap. Multiple photographs showed an angry Igor Karkaroff stalking around, shouting at shopkeepers to take him seriously. From the books, she knew that this was actually more fear than genuine anger, but for a man who had been a Death Eater, fear and fury were probably quite closely held. She heard a roaring in her ears, whether it was an imagined audience at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament or the rushing of her blood through blood vessels in her ears, she didn’t know. Elodie tried to re-focus on the conversation Remus and Sirius were having at her feet.

“--should be scared. He was an informant. Gave multiple names to the authorities, and I should know, I heard them complain and curse his name from my cell,” Sirius was saying.

“Could he have given names but kept something like a brand secret?” Remus asked, sounding dubious.

“They knew,” Elodie said in a sick, stricken voice.

“How do you figure?” Sirius asked, not unkindly.

Elodie looked over at Remus. “Do you remember much about the time right after James and Lily’s death? Was anyone looking for Voldemort’s body?” 

After reading most of book 7, Elodie usually found it extremely difficult to say his name, but not this time.

“It was…” Remus broke off and frowned. “I’ll be honest, I could search back in my memories, but they’re fragmented. I doubt I’d remember anything accurately.”

“You’re saying they had other ways to feel certain that he was gone? More certain than finding Harry relatively safe except for the curse scar?” Sirius asked her.

“If they had Karkaroff already, yes. But I didn’t take into account that he might have come in and informed  _ because _ his injury, scar, whatever, started fading.” Elodie looked down at the tray full of animated photographs. “I had been just assuming that the Ministry had allowed the celebrations because they were all too eager to accept that if Harry was alive, Voldemort couldn’t be.”

“It’s probably a bit of both,” Remus said, sitting down at the very end of the couch, where her feet couldn’t reach. “They didn’t have to curtail anything, once they had Karkaroff’s arm to convince them.”

“They might not have thought it was as significant, either,” Elodie said, her voice excited, as she’d just realized something. “Think about it--Sirius didn’t have one. If they were so sure he was a trusted lieutenant, a right hand man kind of guy, the lack of a mark on his arm might have persuaded them it wasn’t a big deal.”

“I’d like to say I’d have remembered if they had asked me about it,” Sirius told her. “But honestly, I was… very out of it. Deranged is a good description.”

“I have tried to imagine how I would have reacted in that moment, Sirius,” Remus told him in a pained voice, his eyes closed. “I always end up feeling so helplessly enraged…” He opened his eyes again and looked at Sirius, shaking his head as if to say the very thought made him speechless. 

“And now the Death Eaters seem to be coming back.” Sirius handed Remus the photograph of Karkaroff, and then sort of collapsed forward, landing on his knees to sit back on his heels.  _ “He’s _ coming back. Somehow.”

“The fact I’m about to share with you is probably not going to help that feeling in the pit of your stomach right now,” Elodie said, making sympathetic face. “Have you heard about the Tri-Wizard Tournament?” She knew that Harry and Sirius exchanged letters during the fourth book’s time period, but she didn’t remember how often, and she didn’t know whether Harry had written about the fact that the tournament was to be held, before his name had been chosen as a participant.

“That’s an old event,” Sirius said, looking confused. “We used to joke about it, didn’t we, Remus? They stopped holding them. Too dangerous.”

“Yeah, about that,” Elodie dangled, wincing.

Sirius shot to his feet in a split second. “Do  _ not _ tell me-- That hasn’t been held in-- What in the name of Merlin’s  _ toenails  _ is Albus Dumbledore thinking -?!” He started reaching for his wand, but he’d clearly forgotten where exactly he’d placed it, so he was patting, then hitting his body in multiple places, searching for it.

“Which schools?” Remus asked in a grave voice.

“Beauxbatons and Durmstrang,” Elodie said, her voice echoing his tone. “It’s probably in his room, the wand,” she added.

Remus stood. “Sirius, you must have left it in your room, walk with me?” 

Elodie watched them walk away until the strain of turning started an ache in the top-most wounds on her chest. She rested a hand against the bandage, and the pressure was soothing. Seeing Sirius so manic and furious explained to her how he could have made such a foolish decision to believe that Harry was in danger in the Department of Mysteries, the day he fell through the Veil. There was  _ zero _ reasoning with him, in that mood. Had he been alone, that night? Would he be alone this time?

Not if she could help it.

Sirius wasn’t in much better of a mood when they came back, but Elodie had more bad news for him, so that was probably for the best.

“Your face,” Sirius said, pointing at her. “Your face is telling me you weren’t done, and I’m not going to like whatever you weren’t done telling me.”

“My face would really like you to know that its sorry to be the bearer of bad news, yeah,” Elodie said. She could knew the expression he was referring to, but that pity and trepidation she was showing on her face wasn’t going to fade, not until she told him the rest. “Karkaroff is Headmaster of Durmstrang, Sirius. That’s one of the schools coming to Hogwarts.”

Sirius turned to Remus and said, calmly, “I think I probably should have left the wand in my room.” Then, he looked at his wand, and Elodie could see the fury and fear rising in him, his hand shaking, his teeth clenched, his knees locked.

“Sit with me?” she asked, feeling desperate to distract him. “Look at the rest of the pictures? Here, his arm,” she said, lifting one of the ones that showed the dim smudge of a shape on Karkaroff’s forearm. Remus flicked his wand at the table beside Elodie, and it slid backwards, while he physically walked the chair beside the couch up to where the table had been.

“I’m being managed,” Sirius said.

“But not into something you wouldn’t want to do, right? You want to see these pictures,” Elodie said, trying to reason with him. Then something else occurred to her. “Remus! How long-- how much of a snapshot in time, I mean, does a magical photograph show? How helpful is this?”

“I’m sorry to say it’s probably not long, we won’t be able to see any change,” Remus told her. “Honestly, if we do see a significant change, that does not bode well for our theory.”

“Well that’s enough to make me glad for what we do have, anyway,” she said, glancing over at Sirius. He was frowning and looking at the pictures that showed Karkaroff.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, at length. “I think they did know. They just didn’t share it. It’s both a cudgel and a sword--they cut away the Death Eaters that are obviously involved, and beat the others into submission, with the secrecy of the brand as the means.”

“So they clearly let Karkaroff go,” Elodie said, staring at the picture of him standing behind her. The Elodie in the picture looked giddy and frightened, even though she’d hoped, at the time, that she had been convincing with her ditzy tourist impression.

“Headmaster, though,” Remus said, shaking his head. “That’s a lot of responsibility for someone with that in his past.”

“Durmstrang’s always been a fringe school. They teach much more of the Dark Arts there; no defense, that’s for sure. Shut down Slytherin House at Hogwarts and watch them all skitter away to Durmstrang.” Sirius said this in a bitter, vicious voice that sounded completely hollow inside.

“Not all of them, Sirius, don’t prejudge,” Remus chided.

“I don’t have to prejudge, they show their true colors just fine without my help,” Sirius said.

“So what do we do?” Elodie asked. 

“I will write to Dumbledore about Karkaroff. Even if he knew about the man’s past, the Tri-Wizard Tournament is, if I recall correctly, not actually organized primarily through the headmasters, but through governments,” Remus said. “I won’t mention the brand.”

“Good,” Sirius grunted. “It’s time that more than one wizard knows some of the secrets, for once.”

“Your anger at Albus for keeping Harry from you doesn’t mean you should punish him,” Remus said in a quiet but authoritative voice. “We’re most effective when we work together. If I had known who James had chosen as Secret Keeper--”

“Point taken,” Sirius bit out, interrupting Remus. “If you would give me a  _ little _ credit, I’m not being vindictive as much as cautious. Telling Dumbledore about this is not something I would do in a  _ letter.” _

“If you two are going to fight, please take it somewhere else than over my couch?” Elodie said in a small voice. Remus had migrated around to the back of the couch and Sirius’s last statement was said while actually leaning over her, a bit. The gestures they were making combined with the weight behind their words left her overwhelmed to be in the middle of it.

“Sorry, Ellie,” Sirius said, gathering up the photographs. “Can I take these for a bit? While you sleep?”

“If she can,” Remus said, looking remorseful. “Old wounds, sorry about that.”

“Thank you,” Elodie said, surprising herself. Normally she’d have excused her objections, said ‘it’s fine,’ and made a joke, but this conversation had been fraught with emotion, and she was exhausted.

“Hmm,” Remus said after Sirius had gathered up the photographs and started toward his bedroom. “May I?” he asked Elodie, gesturing as if he wanted to feel her forehead. She nodded. His hand was gentle, and she held herself as still as she could when he touched her. It was still very close to the full moon, and she didn’t want to give anything away. “Bit of a fever. You’re pale, your heartbeat’s steady, but you’re warm. You should take more pain potion and sleep,” Remus said. He’d left his hand on her forehead until he stopped speaking.

“That sounds lovely, honestly.” Elodie yawned. “I wanted to ask though?” She cut off her question as Remus had nodded and started walking away.

“Had to grab the potion, sorry if you were still talking,” he said, sitting on the chair behind the couch but scooting it closer to where her head was. “Need help?”

“I want to try drinking it myself, but-- this is stupid. Look away?” Elodie said, biting her lip. “I might flub it and for some reason I would feel ten times more idiotic if you saw me.”

The softened, sympathetic look on his face when she admitted this made her feel like she was drugged already.

“Tell me when you’re finished, then,” he said. “Wait--” and he reached out with both hands, stabilized the potion with one of them around her hand as she held it, and with the other, he twisted the top off. It took some force, but somehow he had the presence of mind not to squeeze with the hand held around hers. “There.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Tired as she was, the practice from earlier lifting the photographs and turning her head to speak had dulled the pain of moving the skin closest to her splinching cuts, and she drank the whole potion in a few seconds. “Finished, with olympic level success!” she joked. “I’m nearly ready to move on to soups!”

“Soup would be a great dinner idea,” Remus said, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Even though Sirius  _ detests _ soup. It’s almost as if his mother trained him to be some sort of anti-soup crusader.”

“Which actually means she fed him soup every day while yelling at his technique, more like,” Elodie said, laughing.

Remus looked at her with a curious expression on his face. “Sirius talked to you about his mother?” he asked, clearly very surprised.

Elodie’s heart sank. She’d slipped up with her unnatural knowledge again. She decided to deflect with the truth. “No, he didn’t,” she said. “I just remember the subject of his mother came up, once, and his reaction was so negative I just extrapolated from there.”

Remus made a wry face and looked down at where his hand was playing with a fraying thread from the couch. “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up there, but he’s got a lot of baggage from his parents, and it would be a powerful thing if he felt he could unload some of it.” He looked up at her, and she could see the depth of his caring for his friend reflected in the sorrow in his eyes. “He had a warped view of family dynamics even  _ before _ Azkaban.”

“We’re his family now,” Elodie said. She had tried to say it with firm conviction, but she yawned halfway through. “Damnit. I meant to sound more badass there. Like a final line before a commercial break.”

“The funny thing here is I can’t tell which is a typical Elodieism and which is a product of pain medicine and sleep deprivation,” Remus chuckled.

“Deprivation,” she scoffed. “I’ve slept more than I’ve been awake in the past two days, I’ll have you know,” Elodie said, pointing at him.

“The best revenge for my rudeness would be for you to sleep a good twelve hours,” Remus said in a voice that sounded suspiciously patronizing.

“I’m an overachiever, you know,” Elodie said, snuggling her hands into her blankets. “Maybe I’ll go for 16.” She shut her eyes, not because she  _ had _ to, but because she  _ wanted _ to.

“As long as they’re healing hours,” Remus said in a very quiet voice. She thought she’d delay letting herself drift off until she heard him walk away, but she fell asleep waiting.

8888888888888888

Elodie did, in fact, sleep almost 16 hours. When she woke, she realized that she needed to get up to use the bathroom, and she didn’t have time to transition to ‘not hating the world’ awake before she did it. The angle of the sun told her that she’d missed the typical breakfast hour, so there was no telling where exactly Sirius or Remus were in the house. She was certain she wasn’t completely alone, though.

First, she stretched her legs, under the blanket. Next, she did a kind of shrugging stretch, pushing her shoulders back against the pillow and arching her back just a little bit. The big step she took was moving the blanket aside and turning her body to sit up. She vaguely remembered that she’d been helped to the bathroom the day she’d been injured, and the day before in the morning, but she hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and had been pretty blissed out on pain medication. Blocking them out had been easy. Today, though, she definitely didn’t have any medicine in her system, but the only painful part about her bathroom trip was standing up.

The fact that she was still wearing Remus’s bathrobe was a bit of a mixed blessing. She didn’t know what his response had been to Sirius, after all, and the context cues from Sirius’s behavior afterwards were nothing shy of completely baffling.

Elodie was settling back in her nest when a door opened and Remus walked into the living room. She pulled her feet up onto the couch in a rush, but he saw her.

“Besides sleeping, I have left this room for maybe twenty minutes? And somehow that’s when you get up!”

She tried to get her breathing under control after rushing back into her spot. “I’m sure you’re grateful to have missed this particular errand, Remus, honestly. But thank you for looking after me?” Elodie phrased the last statement as a question, as if asking permission to thank him.

“You’re welcome,” he answered with a kind of begrudging frustration that was completely adorable.

“Hope I didn’t talk in my sleep, oh my God,” she whispered to herself when he went into the kitchen with his old teacup.

“You didn’t,” he said, leaning to look out the doorway at her. Today it didn’t hurt to turn her head to look. “Hungry?”

“Chocolate bread?” she asked in response.

“There’s one slice left, but it’s not the heel,” he called out from inside the kitchen. Elodie was prepared to argue that he should to eat it when he came out with two plates. “I’ll split it with you.”

Given his propensity to defer to everyone, even for things this small, Elodie was actually really delighted. “I’m happy to see you allowing yourself to be at least a tiny bit selfish,” she said, taking her share from him. “Baby steps?”

The disgruntled look he shot over at her from his easy chair was feigned. “Would you like to read today?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes! I’d meant to ask you last night, actually,” Elodie said, picking a crumb off of her chest and tucking his bathrobe closer around herself to prevent any more from dropping into the gauze around her wound. “Would you lend me one of your books for that? I would have asked that anyway, but since I’m an unwilling invalid…”

She looked at Remus for his response, but he was looking away, toward the fireplace. After a few seconds of silence, he seemed to catch up to her question, though. “Yes, I’d love to. There’s one book in particular I just reread, in preparation for the author’s upcoming autobiography. I’ll grab it in a few.”

“No rush,” she said. They ate in companionable silence until that very silence led Elodie to ask Remus where Sirius was.

“He’s constructed a respectable-looking addition to the mini shed outside and is working on the motorcycle in there,” Remus said. “I expect to get a list of supplies I’ll need to grab for him, at least I damn well better get one. He’s not allowed to go himself, we’ve already shouted about it, outside.”

“I didn’t realize the  _ Muffliato _ was two-sided, I’d have thought I would hear that,” Elodie said. As a precaution against Sirius being discovered at the house, or perhaps just because it was a typical magical household tradition, they’d cast the sound dampening spell in a bubble around the house. Logically, it seemed like the sort of thing one would cast around windows and doors, especially in a city, but in the country, a house-encasing series of spells was probably overkill. Unless one was protecting a fugitive, of course. 

“Well, he did most of the shouting, as usual,” Remus laughed. “I probably deserved it. I was ordering him around, in retrospect.”

“Might want to include his shed in the spell, though, if he’s going to spend a lot of time out there,” she mused.

“If past is prologue, you’re right. He spent a lot of time working on it when he lived at James’s.”

Ordinarily, Elodie would have jumped at the chance to ask Remus to elaborate, but there was something about the way his face looked when he spoke that stopped her. There was a brittleness to the little laugh he gave after speaking Harry’s father’s name, a little sideways dart of his eyes away from her. Even though she’d never bring it up on her own, she decided to let this opportunity to talk about James pass seemingly unnoticed. There would be time to ask again sometime.

When Remus stood up with his plate, she lifted hers and said, “Would you like to get the book now? I can start reading it and be at least a little ready to chat later.”

“Definitely,” he said.

As she waited for him, Elodie ran her fingers through her hair and conjured up a ponytail holder. She was  _ not _ going to send Remus to retrieve her sparkly nightmare of a grooming book, though.

When Remus came back, he had the excited look on his face that he would get when he got a chance to geek out on something. “I found it. It’s almost fifteen years old, now, a collection of speeches. Have you heard of Nelson Mandela?”

Elodie got full-body goosebumps. Here was a collision of magical and Muggle life she hadn’t expected. “Yes! I  _ love _ Nelson Mandela!” she enthused. Remus handed her the book, and she stared at it.  _ Nelson Mandela: In His Own Words. _

_ She owned this book _ , she realized, in her own time. This particular cover was different, and she remembered that there was a foreword by President Bill Clinton in her version. He’d been elected in 1992, and Mandela himself was released from prison in the early 90’s too, she recalled. 

“He was elected President of South Africa a few months ago,” Remus said, answering her unspoken question. He rested a hip on the back of the couch, smiling broadly. “There’s already been an article in  _ Orion’s Belt _ written about the changes he’s been suggesting to South Africa’s Governor for Magic.”

“Holy shit, I never thought about that,” Elodie blurted out. Remus looked at her in confusion, and she explained, “The secrecy thing. As a head of state, President Mandela would be told about magic. I live in a world where Nelson Mandela  _ knows about magic!” _ There was something profound about that, to her. “Bill Clinton probably knows about magic.  _ The Queen _ knows about magic!”

“Of course they do!” Remus shook his head at her.

Elodie wanted to try to explain to him why this felt so important. “You have to understand how very… mundane adult life can be, for Muggles. The idea that a Muggle who has struggled in their life, a Muggle who triumphed  _ without _ using something gimmicky like magic, a Muggle as awesome as  _ Nelson Mandela _ could find out about the most amazing thing in the whole world because he rose to the position of President? It’s awesome. I’m not conveying it properly, I can tell by your face.”

Remus tipped his head to the side and regarded her thoughtfully. “I could see how finding out about something like magic could be a very hopeful thing. Mix that with someone with the stature of Mandela, who could make some very real and lasting changes to his country and the world,” he said slowly, as if formulating his opinion as he spoke, “Yes, that’s an amazing thing. Something he won’t mention in his autobiography, though, I’m sorry to say.”

“Oh, right, you said that you were prepping for it, which I should tell you is kind of geeky adorable, even if you do change the subject right after I say it,” Elodie said, grinning at him. In that moment, she felt like Remus  _ had _ to feel their connection, or at the very least, should know that she felt they had one. “Okay I’m going to ask you something, and you aren’t allowed to take the fact that I can’t get up and follow you against me, okay?”

The amused tone he’d been wearing already didn’t fall away, which was encouraging. Instead, he just said, “Okay.”

She took a deep breath. “All right, remember when we met, and you asked me what I did for a living, and I said it was complicated, and we could maybe talk about it over coffee sometime?” Elodie looked down at his book in her lap, instead of at Remus, now, because she didn’t want to change what she was going to say based on his reaction, no matter what. “Well, at the time, I didn’t intend that to sound like I was asking you on a date or anything, but I am, now. I’m asking you on a coffee date.”

It wasn’t the best way she could have asked, but she hadn’t given herself any time to practice. Elodie looked up at Remus and saw that he looked surprised and slightly sad. The latter emotion had her worried.

“Well, that’s… Thank you,” he said.

“Saying ‘thank you’ after someone asks you out is as good as saying  _ ‘no, _ thank you,’ did you know that?” Elodie couldn’t stop herself from teasing him.

“I’m not trying to--look,” Remus said, looking decidedly unhappy, now. “You’ve just been hurt, and I was a very big part of that first day. That kind of trauma can change the way you view--”

“Okay, you can stop talking  _ right now,” _ Elodie demanded. “I can clear that nonsense up without the need to hear the rest of what you’re about to say. I have thought of you as maybe more than a friend for longer than just this week!” She did not add that she was manifestly  _ not _ sixteen years old with hero worship, thank you very much, because she didn’t want to give him anything he might twist into another objection.

“You’re sure this doesn’t have to do with your being kind to me? Being my supplier for Wolfsbane? My being there for you when your mother died?”

“Why are you doing this?” Elodie asked him in her own sad voice. She wasn’t going to dignify his ridiculous assertions.

He stood up and looked down at her with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t understand his reasoning. “Because I am a  _ werewolf, _ Elodie. Please hear me on this. Werewolves  _ aren’t safe.” _

“If you really, truly believed that, you wouldn’t be living here,” she scoffed.

“You’re asking for a level of intimacy I told myself I would never allow,” Remus whispered, and it felt like he’d shared a deep secret without having intended to. “I  _ can’t _ allow that. It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re not a monster. You deserve to be happy!” Elodie said. She was determined not to get visibly upset, despite how she felt inside. “I’m not asking for much. Just think of it as a modified book chat, with no pressure?” Elodie pulled a smile from deep down inside her. It came out crooked and tentative, but it was a smile.

“I can’t let--” he broke off and looked away from her. “Kindness should be enough,” he said. 

Remus walked away from the couch and Elodie stared at  _ In His Own Words _ until the title of the book blurred. As impulsive actions went, that had been a doozy, but she couldn’t help but notice the phrasing he’d just used. ‘Should be enough’ had some hope in it. It implied that maybe, just maybe, kindness wasn’t currently enough.

The house fell into an awkward silence for exactly one minute until Sirius came breezing through the door, practically coated in grease and attitude.

“I have become a snob,” he declared, walking over to the couch and wiggling his grimy fingers at Elodie.

“Touch me and DIE, greasemonkey,” she threatened, pulling her blanket up in case she needed to hide under it.

“I love that you forget  _ Protego _ is a thing,” he retorted. He pulled his wand out and promptly dropped it.

“Smooth,” she said.

_ “‘Become’ _ a snob.” Remus walked back over, looking like he was trying to work out a particularly difficult math problem.

“It’s probably not snobbery, because ‘Muggle’ and ‘snobbery’ are definitely not words that go together,” Sirius said. “But when it comes to building motorcycles, the Muggles are the pros, what can I say?” He walked past her while holding his hands on the other side of his body from the couch.

“Do magical motorcycles even exist?” Elodie asked.

“They will, when I’m done!” Sirius shouted to her from the kitchen.

“I meant--oh, never mind,” Elodie said, shaking her head.

“That’s prudent of you,” Remus said. “Sirius is the king of getting the last word. It’s actually how I win most arguments, because he’ll completely blow his own point to hell looking to get the last dig in.”

“You most certainly do  _ not _ win most arguments,” Sirius bellowed from the kitchen.

“See?” Remus said in a low voice that Sirius couldn’t hear. “Let him think he’s won?”

“All right, but you didn’t win  _ our _ disagreement, either,” she told him, looking him straight in the eye. She raised her eyebrow, and his face went through multiple expressions. First he looked surprised that she’d brought it back up, then he looked stubborn for a split second, but finally, in the light of her own stubbornness, there was a grudging respect, even as he frowned at her.

“All right,” he echoed her before giving her a little nod to acknowledge the point she’d made before leaving her to head for the kitchen.


	21. Pageantry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus gets a job, Elodie gets a hug, and Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrive at Hogwarts.

>  
> 
> Dear Elodie,
> 
> I was sorry to hear about your splinching injury. Remus told me you are healing well and I wanted you to know if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask, either with your own letter or via Remus. Splinching is something that we all have in the back of our minds, but it’s only when someone we know is afflicted that we remember the cost of our easy transportation! I know you had overcome your fear of it admirably, when you first moved in, so I hope this hasn’t dampened your faith in yourself. 
> 
> This is usually the place where I would say, ‘Remind me sometime to tell you of the time I splinched myself,’ but I will be truthful with you, Elodie: I do not wish to remember it to tell you. That memory is resting safely in a vial somewhere, and I doubt I’ll ever revisit it.
> 
> I had another reason for sending you this Owl, though. Remus told me about the encounter you had with Igor Karkaroff in Diagon Alley, and later in Knockturn. I knew that he had been an informant, and also that he’d been appointed the Headmaster of Durmstrang. I had hoped that this was an indication of his country’s faith in his rehabilitation, but now, with your revelations, I have a mixed mind about it.
> 
> On the one hand, anyone uttering the phrase ‘Dark Lord’ unironically is a concern. On the other hand, his fear might be something we should look to as an encouragement. I won’t be able to say either way until I get a chance to interact with him and Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons, which will happen at the end of this month. I will ask Remus in my next Owl, but I wanted to ask you and Sirius as well if you agree we should schedule an Order meeting to discuss these developments? I would set it up for later in November or early December, which hopefully will give me a chance to speak to him about various things to feel out his motives.
> 
> I will look for a reply from you soon,
> 
> Albus

Elodie put down the scroll and looked over at Remus, who was sitting on his chair. 

“Remus?”

“Hmm?” he said, lifting his head as if to look at her without moving his eyes from the page he was reading.

“Got a message from Albus,” she said. Then, hoping to catch him off guard, she added, “Can I head downstairs tonight? It’s only one night early, and I got this shirt on without much pain at all, I think I’m ready.”

Now, he looked up at her. “I’m not your jailer,” he said mildly. “Do you want me to go down and cast a warming charm first?”

“Easy as that?” Elodie said, not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated with him. Just the night before he’d acted very disappointed that she’d feel like she could risk her recovery by not listening to the mediwitch’s advice.

“I hate to disappoint you,” Remus said--and Elodie wondered for a scared second if she’d spoken her last thoughts out loud. “--but that was also part of the medical advice. ‘Don’t give in on the first day that seems reasonable,’” he quoted. Remus placed a bookmark in to hold his place, set the book down, and started for the basement stairs. “I’m glad you’re feeling so much better,” he said, right before he headed down.

She ended up conjuring a basket to levitate her book, blanket, and pillow in, among other small things she’d collected over the six days. She didn’t dare take his bathrobe with her, though she did fold it up as small as she could make it initially, thinking she’d tuck it under her blanket. However, thinking of how she would possibly explain why it was missing to Remus led her to remove it again. After he’d shot her down a few days ago, there was no way she was going to offer him free ammunition that proved she was acting naive or childish about having feelings for him.

As she’d learned from the infrequent bathroom trips she’d made to and from her couch, the only thing that hurt badly was standing. As she slowly stood up, her basket hovering beside her, she thought about how best to tackle the stairs, and decided she would walk down them facing backwards. When she reached the last step and felt around with her foot for the solid basement floor, she heard Remus and turned to see a look of horror on his face.

“All I saw when I opened the door was you facing backwards, and your foot reaching down, and I thought I’d missed hearing you fall,” he said in explanation.

“Ah,” she said, pulling her wand back out and walking over to him. “Safer backwards, I thought.”

“You should probably have waited for me.”

“You’re not my jailer, and you’re definitely not my dad,” she said, grinning up at him. He was still standing in her doorway, and she was in some ways glad that he was wearing his most Remus-y outfit, a button-down shirt with one of his adorably old man knitted vests. It was summer, but no, Remus was still Remus, no matter the weather. He didn’t look at all like Moony.

That’s what she was telling herself.

“Caretaking for someone who’s been injured is hardly just our parents’ job,” he said, finally scooting out of her way. She didn’t let her basket hit him in the chest, even though she thought he could use a little knocking down off of his high horse. She used words, instead.

“I seem to recall making a similar comment how I’m not trying to be your mother, but maybe that was another Elodie Merriman,” she said, wishing she could cross her arms in front of her chest, but knowing it would hurt like a bitch if she did. Before she could change her mind, she added, “Not to mention, a mother figure wouldn’t have asked you out!”

“Not this again,” he muttered.

“You are the one who sanctimoniously pointed out how taking care of someone is not something just our own parents do!” she said, her voice full of scorn. “God forbid I prove to you I’m paying attention to the times you might need something!”

“I do not need you to insert yourself into things I’ve taken care of my entire adult life,” he snapped. “I know when I’m going to need help, and it’s not the week before my transformation, when you went nosing over to Hollyfield to find out--”

“Nosing.” Elodie crossed her arms in front of her chest anyway.  _ “Nosing. _ As if it’s none of my business how my friend is faring in my own house, during a predictable event I can prepare for.  _ Nosing.” _

The word had lost all meaning for her, now that she’d used it so many times, but that was fine, because it meant that  _ neither _ of them had any idea what the word meant, at that point.

“If I’d have wanted your help, I would have asked for it,” Remus said, sounding less angry than weary. For some reason, that made her even more angry, as though he were wearing the actual mantle of an angry father who was finally just tired of making the same argument over and over to a child who didn’t get it.

“Really? You’re so sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure you’d rather die a noble death, secure in the knowledge that you haven’t committed a possible impropriety than to ever be caught asking for help.”

Remus pulled himself up to a full stand, something he hardly ever did, as he always seemed to hold his body as if he were ashamed of how much space he took up in a room. “Just because I never asked doesn’t mean I wouldn’t, Elodie. I’m sorry it’s so difficult to tell the difference.” He’d maintained the quiet tone, and she was almost convinced by his demeanor. Almost, but not quite, because you can’t tell the difference between two things that have  _ never happened. _

He turned to leave, then, as though he’d won something, and she felt an irrational urge to hurt him as much as her heart hurt when they fought. Couldn’t he see she loved him? How much more obvious did she need to be?

“I was thinking about our fight, when I Apparated,” she said, feeling as if the words sliced through her lips and tongue as she said them, as harsh and biting as anything she’d ever said to anyone. “I should have known better than to try. I was so upset,” she said, forcing out a bitter laugh that tasted like ashes in her mouth. “I should have known better.”

As she repeated her last statement, she turned away from him, so secure in her knowledge that she’d hurt him that she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to care about how much. She only turned around when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, and it was only then that she registered just how tightly she’d crossed her arms in front of her injured chest.

Elodie just barely had time to cast a silencing charm on herself before she let out a soundless, agonized scream. The pain in her chest was awful, and she didn’t know which was worse, the pain in her heart or that of the healing wounds on her skin.

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Elodie had nightmares for days, after that. The atmosphere at the house was decidedly frosty, as Elodie mostly kept to the couch or her room and simply read, Remus kept to his room and likely did the same, and Sirius was outside with Buckbeak and his motorcycle almost all the time. She knew she’d hurt Remus’s feelings, but she had no idea how to ask his forgiveness, and the more she tried to come up with scenarios where she said she was sorry, the more those scenarios ended up as screaming matches. It got to the point where Elodie had built up a Remus in her head that definitely never existed, one that was haughty and cutting and unbothered by their current lack of a relationship.

What finally broke the dam was a day of important Wolfsbane activities, and the fact that Elodie was planning to do them by herself, for once. She had added the Aconite last time, but she’d been supervised. After watching and participating so much in tandem with Horace, she felt ready, but at the same time, she didn’t feel like she could responsibly take such a big step when she was in so much unspoken conflict with the potion’s intended recipient.

So, on the seventeenth of October, with her heart in her throat, Elodie went to knock on Remus Lupin’s bedroom door.

When he opened it, she stood in front of him and prepared herself to tell him how sorry she was, how awful she felt, how much of a complete asshole she had been. In her hand she had the book about Mandela he’d given her. Instead of saying anything, though, Elodie found herself just staring at him, taking in the tiredness in his features that she usually didn’t see unless it was the week after the full moon. She saw ink on the fingers of his right hand, and looking past him, saw that he’d transfigured one of his chairs into a desk, and the other into a desk chair. There were papers strewn everywhere, and a few books lay open on his bed. All that was missing was a garbage can with a collection of perfectly crumpled pieces of parchment in it, or maybe an upended inkwell. Elodie was fascinated, but she’d come there to do a job, so she did an Elodie job at fulfilling it.

“I came here to tell you I’m a complete asshole, and I promise I’m not saying that just to get you to tell me what you’ve been doing in here for the last few days,” she said, looking from his ink stained fingers to his shaggy hair. “Also, you are in serious need of a haircut. I’m really sorry.”

Remus coughed, and it sounded suspiciously like he was trying to hide laughter. “Your sympathy about the state of my hair is duly noted,” he said. “Would you like to come in? You can’t sit anywhere, but you can lean against the wall. I have it on good authority it’s decently comfortable.”

Instead of moving to the side, though, Remus searched her face for a minute as if looking for further questions or accusations. When she just looked at him, bemused at his strange mood, he then looked her up and down, probably noting her high-necked shirt, definitely seeing the book in her hand.

“Thanks for this, I loved it,” she said, handing the book to him. “I’d ask for another, but I don’t know if that would read as too fatherly a role, book recommending. I don’t want to foster that kind of a dynamic with you.”

She hadn’t  _ really _ meant it as a snide comment on him rejecting her, but he clearly took it so.

“Not at all, if you can stand to be in this messy a room without needing to tidy it like a mum,” he shot back. “Unless you wanted to ask me out so you could teach me how to properly take care of myself?”

“Wait,” Elodie said. She held her hand out for the book she’d given Remus, and said, with as much dignity as she could muster, “Can I start over?”

The call back to their first meeting gave her goosebumps, and she could tell by his expression that he was remembering it, too. He nodded and handed her the book. She walked over to the door and closed it behind her, waiting a few seconds before she knocked.

When Remus opened the door, she took a little breath to steady her nerves, and said, “Hi. I’m here to tell you I’m really sorry for being a jerk. I’m working on it, but I’ll probably screw up again?”

Remus leaned against the doorframe with one lifted arm. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to forgive you again.”

Elodie shut her eyes in relief for a second.

“Do you want to come in? I have some news,” he said, moving away from the door. She walked past him into the room, and he said, “Sorry there’s nowhere to sit, but I have it on good authority that the wall is comfortable to lean against.”

“I’ll give it a go,” Elodie said, stepping carefully around the papers on the floor.

“Ah, sorry about those.” Remus lifted his wand.

“No, no--this is clearly some chaotic, creative process,” she protested, carefully phrasing her comment to sound neutral.

“Kind of you, but no. Well, sort of,” Remus said as he used magic to lift each page into a neat pile on the bed. “I got a job. At a newspaper. It’s one step above freelance, but it’s something.”

Elodie was stunned. She realized she looked stunned, and also realized that the longer she stood there looking stunned, the more it would say about her opinion of his new job.

“That’s wonderful,” she finally said. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really see you as a reporter type.” She hoped this explained her initial silence.

“Neither do I,” Remus said. “This is a biweekly column, in  _ Orion’s Belt.  _ It’s a European-centric publication. I write about the origins of commonly used spells, and then offer a more obscure one that is similar.”

Elodie clasped her hands in front of her in delight. “I love that!”

“I’ve written one, and it’s already sent in, and I’ve actually got two more that are more or less done,” Remus said, looking pleased but a bit shy about it. “The other benefit is that I get a chance to submit a longer piece, every other month, for consideration.”

“So you’ve been holed up in here writing your hand sore, then?” she asked, unable to keep the pride from coloring the tone of her voice.

It had taken this long for him to gather up his papers, and he picked up the stack and leafed through them. “Pretty much, yes.”

“You weren’t avoiding me because I’d hit on you, or because we were fighting,” she added, covering her face with one hand in mortification.

“I will say that the majority of my time spent in here was work related,” Remus said in his infuriating way of stepping around uncomfortable truths. He’d left her more wiggle room with this one than he usually did, though, and when she moved her hand slightly to the side to peek at him, he did a tiny little shrug, and added. “Almost all.”

“I feel an overwhelming urge to hug you,” Elodie confessed. “Is that okay? I promise I won’t read into anything.”

Her heart was beating like crazy; she hadn’t actually meant to say it, and no matter what his reaction would be, she was a nervous wreck. This was the question she’d risked going to visit him a half hour before the full moon to avoid, all that time ago, and she’d just come right out with it, standing in his bedroom, no less. Was this progress, or was Elodie just so affected by her feelings that she couldn’t keep them inside, anymore?

“I-- That’s fine,” Remus said, looking a bit surprised. “I don’t think I’m all that intimidating, am I?” he added, when she came over to throw her arms around him.

“Oh, Remus, you have no idea, sometimes,” Elodie said, pouring her pride in his accomplishment into how hard she squeezed. When after a few seconds, his arms came around her in return, she let out the deep breath she’d been holding, and just grinned.

When she moved back and away, Elodie just couldn’t resist adding one last comment.

“You _do_ know that Sirius is going to start calling you Lois Lane, right?”

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Elodie’s Wolfsbane tasks went perfectly, and so did everything else. It seemed like the news of Remus’s job and her botched apology had finally patched up their differences, and so the three of them settled into easy domesticity. 

That didn’t mean that Sirius didn’t give her shit about it, of course. He just waited until she wasn’t expecting it. Elodie got a letter from Albus asking if she’d like to come to Hogwarts to watch the schools arrive for the Tri-Wizard Tournament on the 30th of October. That was the full moon, and so after she got the letter, she went looking for Sirius.

“Thanks for kissing and making up with Remus,” he told her when she handed him his sandwich.

“I don’t think you’d actually tease me about it if you thought that’s what happened, so I’m ignoring that,” she sassed at him. “How’s the motorcycle going?”

“There’s a lot of small charms and protective nonsense that I need to do with it before it’s ready to be modified the way I want,” Sirius said, taking an enormous bite of his sandwich and, of course, still talking. It sounded like the next thing he said was, “So, I’ll be happy when that’s all done,” but Elodie wasn’t sure. She went ahead with what she had come to ask him before he’d started to tease her.

“I need to ask your help. I’m in mothering mode, and Remus won’t like it, but he’s going to have to deal.”

“Lay it on me,” he replied.

“So the full moon is in two days, and I think it’s safe to say that Moony may be under the impression that there is a kind of theme going, visit-before-moonrise-wise,” she admitted, biting her lip. Sirius sat up to look at her, his eyebrows raised. “But, I just got a letter from Albus about the schools that are coming for the Tournament this year.”

“Including Durmstrang, with Karkaroff,” Sirius said.

“Exactly. He’s invited me to see them arrive, and I want to go. I have a feeling it’ll be… cinematic, for the lack of a better term. And I might be able to see him, at a distance, because oh my god, no thank you for anything closer, if Karkaroff even recognizes me.”

“Elodie, you make me feel good about how my recovery from Azkaban is going,” Sirius said as he finished up with his sandwich and dusted off his hands. “There’s no way that I’d ever be able to follow that sentence if I had brain damage.”

Elodie couldn’t really argue with that. “Can you watch out for Remus that night, for me?”

“Does Remus know you see that as your job?” he asked, bluntly.

“Nope,” Elodie replied, popping the ‘P.’

“Then yes, I can wander down there and cram some Wolfsbane down him, make sure the wards are cast,” Sirius said. “But I’m not kissing Moony.”

“I really ought to have seen that quip coming,” Elodie grumbled as she walked back to the house.

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The thirtieth of October was a clear, cool day. Elodie used the Floo to head over to Hogwarts after breakfast, and while Albus had offered her the run of Hogwarts, but she had decided to curl up with a book in his office for a few hours before the schools were set to arrive. She didn’t want to sit up front with the professors, during the banquet, because that would draw Karkaroff’s attention, she felt. Her memories of how the great hall had been described in the book would probably not compare to the real thing, so she didn’t want to decide exactly where she’d go until she saw it. Albus had told her that some of the students would be congregating in the various towers that had views of the lake, as the Durmstrang ship would be coming up through there. The flight of the Beauxbatons carriage would be visible from there, too. The rest of the school’s population would be gathered at the two locations as an in-person welcoming party.

Elodie settled into a chair against the wall in the office, and it wasn’t until she’d tucked her feet underneath her and opened her book that she heard the voice of the portrait hanging above her.

“You again,” the former Black Headmaster sneered.

“Before I ignore you, I want you to know I can hear you, and I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” Elodie said calmly. Then, she lifted her wand in preparation to cast a sound-dampening charm for the air around her.

“Raising your wand against a portrait? While I appreciate and value your fear of me, I should inform you that attacking the Headmaster portraits is a crime even if you aren’t a current student,” Black told her smugly.

“Do you know what Muggles say about assuming things, Finny?” Elodie asked, tempering her annoyance at her own inability to ignore him by using a nickname she expected the man would hate. “It makes an ass out of U and Me.”

For added effect, Elodie used the magical spell that drew on walls to hover the word in the air in front of the portrait. She even separated the letters to illustrate her point.

“You have to be the most inane creature I’ve ever encountered in this office, and I’m including all of the first years.”

Elodie counted this as a win. She refocused on her book, wondering if the portrait was able to see the room with varying degrees of clarity based on the limitations of his frame. She forgot that the portrait subjects were able to move.

“The picture on the front of your book looks like it’s a Muggle,” Black complained a few minutes later. His voice came from a portrait across the room.

“That’s because it is a Muggle--at least, I think he is. He’s the current President of Poland,” Elodie said, putting a great deal of irritation into her voice. She aimed her book, _The Struggle and the Triumph, an Autobiography by Lech_ _Wałęsa,_ so that the book covered her face _and_ was aimed at the portrait Phineas Nigellus was currently standing in. 

“Sounds useless,” Black sniffed.

“That’s where your biases end up screwing you over,” Elodie said in a tone that implied he was being tiresome. “Which is so predictable! The subject of this book is worth a million wizards who can’t see past the ends of their noses.”

“I suppose I have nothing better to do than let myself be drawn into this construction you’ve created for yourself. What could this Muggle leader possibly have done to make him so valuable?”

“That depends,” Elodie said. “Have you heard of the Soviet Union? The Iron Curtain? Solidarity?”

“You  _ do _ know that I was dead during those events, most probably?”

“Are those portraits indestructible? Because I feel like Stalin would have  _ hated _ you. He had a habit of destroying the images of the people he didn’t like.”

“As if he would have been able to stand against--” 

Elodie lifted her wand and cast the sound-dampening charm around herself. She schooled her face into a calm, pleased expression and sighed, happy to get to read her book in peace. She’d let herself gloat about one-upping the blood purist Headmaster another time. It was difficult not to check to see how he was handling this, but it helped that she couldn’t hear a thing.

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After about two and a half hours, Elodie heard the sounds of the statues at the doorway of Albus’s office start to move, and she made a note of what page she was on in her book, miniaturized it, and tucked it into her trouser pocket. A minute later, a tall woman wearing deep emerald green robes came up the stairs and into the room. Elodie knew who it was right away, but waited to be introduced. At the very last minute, she grabbed her wand and cast  _ Finite _ , hoping she didn’t seem too rude. McGonagall, though, simply looked around at the mostly sleeping portraits around the room, found the one which wasn’t asleep, and then nodded knowingly.

“Most long-term visitors try to cast the silencing charms on the actual portraits, which doesn’t work. Sound  _ dampening _ works wonders, however.” She sounded impressed, and reached out a hand in greeting to Elodie. “Minerva McGonagall, Albus sent me to find you.”

“Elodie Merriman, and before I forget, thank you so very much for your help in getting me Albus’s message from America,” Elodie said, shaking the woman’s cold but strong hand.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Albus spoke to me about his trip after he came back, and he was taken with your mother. I don’t mind telling you his voice turned a bit vicious when he described the way your mentor was found.” McGonagall added the last with a look of pride on her face that made Elodie like her immensely. 

“Thank you, that helps,” Elodie told her.

“So I’ll take you up to the outer walkway at Gryffindor tower, we’ll have one of the best views, I think!”

There wasn’t time to talk as the deputy Headmistress walked briskly through throngs of students and up stairs until they came out on an enclosed stone terrace. Despite the view being quite good, there weren’t as many students there, and Elodie commented on this to McGonagall.

“This particular area is essentially Gryffindor only, Miss Merriman,” McGonagall told her.

“Oh, call me Elodie, please,” Elodie rushed to say.

“Thank you, Elodie. I would say call me Minerva but I’ll ask that you do so amongst the adults only?”

“I’d be honored, thank you,” Elodie told Minerva, trying to keep her eyes from going wide.

“I wanted to say,” and here, Minerva turned to look at Elodie, a kindly smile on her somewhat severe face. “I feel you’ve earned the right to this space by what you’ve done for Remus. Despite knowing about the curse on that professorship, I was quite disappointed when he had to leave. That he found someone where he ended up afterwards who made such sacrifices to ensure his comfort means a lot to the friends he left behind, and I wanted you to know that.”

Elodie held Minerva’s gaze for a long minute, speechless. She finally nodded and smiled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye sheepishly. Minerva smiled as well, and then she turned to the gathering students and hollered harshly at them to behave with respect toward each other, or else. The shift in demeanor was practically instant, and it was a treat to watch.

Suddenly there was commotion at the window nearest to Elodie and Minerva. “I see something!” several voices cried out, and the push to catch a glimpse led to a small crowd of Gryffindors rushing over past them. Elodie was incredibly impressed to see that, despite pushing incidentally against Elodie, the students kept a wide, respectful gap between themselves and their Head of House. When she looked over at Minerva to see what her reaction was, the look of pride on the older woman’s pinched face was obvious.

As she was taller than the younger students, but shorter than a good deal of the older ones, Elodie walked over to a window with more of the younger kids. Very far off in the distance, she saw a collection of black specks undulating in the sky. The specks seemed unremarkable, but they were exciting to see, because she knew that they’d only seem more and more impressive, the closer they got.

“Oh, I remember you. Elodie, right?”

Elodie looked down and saw a red haired student in Gryffindor robes. It was Ginny.

“Hello Ginny, or should I say, Miss Weasley?” Elodie said playfully.

“Miss Weasley is what Professor Snape calls me,” Ginny frowned. “Please, let’s stick with ‘Ginny.’”

“I have never met the man, but his reputation tells me that I’d be happy to avoid sounding anything like him,” Elodie whispered back. Ginny’s look of approval made Elodie grin, and the two of them watched with the rest of the school population as the gorgeous flying horses swooped the carriage from Beauxbatons toward the designated landing area. She didn’t even want to imagine how many stabilizing charms were in effect inside!

“I wonder if they’re using the Thestral carriages to take them to the entrance?” one child asked from behind her.

“They are,” another said quietly. “I can see them.”

“Where?!” a chorus of voices called out. Everyone at the windows within earshot craned their necks to see the area around where the carriage had landed, and sure enough, there were a collection of small, roofless carriages trotting toward the landing zone. They appeared to be self-propelled, to Elodie, and she realized that this meant she’d never seen anyone die. She stood transfixed, watching the carriages move up into position for the small human figures to climb into them, even as the current of students eddied and swirled past and around her to the lake-facing windows. Would she still be in this universe in four years? Would she watch some of these students die in the final battle? Could she do anything to prevent that?

“You’re missing it, come on!” a voice said, and even though it wasn’t said directly to her, Elodie felt like it was urging her out of her reverie.

When Elodie got to the other side of the tower, where most everyone else was congregated, the top-most part of Durmstrang’s ship mast was already piercing the water. Even with only that much visible, it was majestic, she thought. The view here was closer than that for Beauxbatons, and she could see the rich red-brown of the wood on the ship. There was a pause, with only the top-most part showing, until something under the water seemed to give way, and the prow sliced through the churning water. Everyone cheered at this, and Elodie clapped along with them, watching the full body of the ship proudly slide up through the water to sit mostly above it. The streams of lake water flowing off of every surface glinted in the afternoon sun, and the banners and pennants that hung on the deck and from the rigging flapped in the breeze, dried magically within seconds of pulling free from the lake.

It was magnificent to watch, and Elodie was grateful that Albus had invited her to see it.

Though the ship was still making its way to the makeshift dock that had been expanded to accommodate it, Elodie made her way down the stairs from the Gryffindor tower, passing the portrait hole on her way down. She couldn’t resist waving happily at the Fat Lady, glad to that she couldn’t see any lasting effects on the portrait from Sirius’s angry attack the previous year. It was to her benefit that there were many students who were all walking to and talking about the Great Hall, so Elodie didn’t feel lost or out of place. She’d told Albus earlier that she wasn’t staying to eat, but he’d done the thing where he’d disagreed with her with such enthusiasm that she hadn’t realized she’d agreed to stay until he’d already left the room.

When Elodie walked into the Great Hall with the other students, she saw that each of the four student tables were extended almost to the back wall, which felt like it was different for today, rather than a habitual thing. The other interesting thing was that each Head of House was standing at the very bottom end of the tables as well, and Elodie realized that this was probably to accommodate the addition of two delegations of students and their accompanying adults. This made it feel like less of an imposition when she went to stand at Gryffindor’s table, not quite at the very foot of the table near Minerva, but close. She caught a nod of approval from Albus, when she had turned her head to look up at the teachers’ table on the dais. 

When she had found her place at the table, there were only a few Gryffindors already there, and none near her. After about ten minutes (during which Elodie stared openly at the enchanted ceiling, the House banners, and the other details that aren’t as grand in one’s own imagination no matter how much one pictures them), a small knot of students walked in and around Minerva to her side of the table.

“Hello again,” Ron said, coming to stand next to her. “Did Dumbledore invite you?”

“It’s  _ Professor _ Dumbledore, Ron,” Hermione corrected him before smiling at her stiffly in greeting. She looked a bit stressed, and Elodie smiled back, but Hermione had already turned her head.

Harry sat beside Ron, with Hermione on his other side, and slowly, the rest of the students from all four houses filled in their spaces, most avoiding the new, extended table areas. Finally, Albus called everyone to attention, and recapped the reason they were all there in such ceremony: the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations had arrived. He made a grand gesture, and though he was almost as far from the large doors at the entrance to the hall as anyone could be, the doors opened within a split second. A tall, rather garishly dressed woman entered. Her furs and lavish clothing seemed off, somehow, and it wasn’t until two rows of students filed in to stand at either side of her that Elodie realized why. 

The tall doors to the Great Hall had obscured the fact that this woman was very, very tall. Elodie knew she had to be Madame Maxime. The Beauxbatons students she’d brought with her had to be over a certain age to even be allowed to come, so the fact that Maxime towered over them, even the boys, was impressive. That was the other thing Elodie was surprised to see: there were boys that had been brought with the delegation.

Elodie had seen the film version of the fourth book, and the visually striking entrances from the two schools had left an impression so strong that she’d completely forgotten that they were co-ed institutions. Now she watched as the male and female representatives from Beauxbatons walked with cool confidence into the room, pausing with precision every time their Headmistress stopped. Their uniforms were less feminine than the movie version, but the color was similar. The cornflower blue color and tailored skirts and slacks the students wore were quite attractive, and their unsmiling, fresh faces reminded Elodie of a high fashion runway show. They weren’t split by gender in their two lines that followed Madame Maxime, and Elodie was happy to see this when she saw the tall woman gesture with her hands, seeming to send each line to a half of the hall to find seating. Of the line that was nearest to Gryffindor’s far wall, almost all moved to sit with the Ravenclaws, which made an odd sort of sense, given the blue coloring and nearness to where they’d come in the door. 

After she’d watched the students settle in their seats, Elodie looked up to see that Dumbledore was completely dwarfed by the Beauxbatons headmistress, but typically, he didn’t look fazed by this at all. He simply gestured to a place at the teachers’ table (conveniently left by the fact that each Head of House was seated with the students) that had been prepared for her. It was as wide as two chairs, and Elodie smiled to think that someone had known to make the space comfortable for the half-giantess. 

A loud banging sound from the large doors startled Elodie into looking in that direction, and she shrunk back into the sweater she was wearing when she saw who had entered the room. Igor Karkaroff strode in, wearing a giant fur cap and incredibly long winter coat, despite the mild weather. He cut an imposing and compelling figure, though, all angles and harsh lines, and she suspected that he’d chosen his outfit for the impression it made, rather than his own comfort. Behind him his students walked forward, not in two lines, but as a triangle, with one student taking the lead. Beside her, Ron sucked in a shocked breath.

“It’s him!” he whimpered, clearly starstruck. “It’s Krum!”

“Big for a Seeker,” Elodie couldn’t help noting out loud. 

He was a fitting leader for his group of students, with a cardinal red coat and a determined expression. The fact that his Headmaster was so much taller than he was did nothing to diminish the impact of Viktor Krum’s presence, Elodie thought. He led his fellow students toward where Karkaroff stood in the middle of the aisle, and for a few seconds, Elodie wondered if the two would collide. Karkaroff started walking right before his wedge of students caught up with him, though, and like the Beauxbatons students’ symmetry, this was visually impressive. She’d forgotten to count the number of Beauxbatons students, but she saw there were just under 20 students from Durmstrang, both boys and girls. There were fewer girls than there had been boys from the previous school, but they had the same look of almost aggressive confidence as their male counterparts.

Elodie felt oddly grateful that the Tournament was hosted at Hogwarts, as she could not imagine any group of random older Hogwarts students projecting confidence at the level that either of these schools had managed.

Right before the Durmstrang group reached Albus Dumbledore’s position on the dais, Igor Karkaroff lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers. The students behind Viktor Krum all turned in unison, half to the left, half to the right, and made a guttural noise as they turned, stomping their right feet as they came to a halt. Then, they walked toward the four House tables, thankfully clustering into normal groups rather than maintaining the angry sort of discipline they’d displayed as they had walked in. Krum conferred with Karkaroff for a second, who shook his head sharply at whatever the young man had said. At this, Krum nodded, clearly unhappy, and turned in the direction of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. Elodie could sense the tension in Ron Weasley as Krum walked past them to whisper in the ear of one of his fellow students. Then, the boy walked away, probably headed for the Slytherin table, as she recalled from the books. She didn’t let herself get too distracted by this, though--her goal was to see how Karkaroff would greet Albus.

Before that greeting, Karkaroff turned and surveyed the room, as if needing to reassure himself that his students were behaving themselves before he allowed his disciplined attitude to slip at all. As if they’d expected this, each Durmstrang student looked forward, only re-integrating themselves to their surroundings when their Headmaster nodded. Only then did he lower his right hand, but just for a few seconds, before he offered it to Dumbledore in greeting.

“Albus!” she heard the man say. Elodie frowned at that. It felt disrespectful, but at the same time, she had no idea if there was some sort of protocol of forced friendliness between the heads of various magical schools. Just as in the film version, Albus and Igor embraced, but the glimpse Elodie caught of the man’s face during that embrace didn’t leave her with any sense that he was happy to be there.

It was in that moment, while looking at the way Igor Karkaroff’s broad smile didn’t reach his eyes, that Elodie was grateful Albus had persuaded her to stay. She remembered that aspect of him from her own encounter, and she saw that Albus chose to sit beside the man, after exhorting them all to eat. There was no way she wanted to wait for a letter to find out what they would talk about. Moony would have to wait a moon cycle, she decided. She was going to stay at Hogwarts until she could talk to Albus.


	22. Reserō Ōstium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie sleeps upstairs when she comes home past the full moon's rise. The housemates read Remus's first published article, but then tensions rise as Sirius's cabin fever flares up.

The thing Elodie had promised Remus was that if she got home past the full moon that night, she would not go downstairs. It was already dark outside when she’d decided to give up waiting for a chance to talk to Albus, though she did get a chance to walk around in the school for a short time before she left. After dinner, she’d walked purposefully onto the moving staircase, intending to look like she knew where she was going and  _ hoping  _ to get a chance to see the Room of Requirement. However well she knew the books, though, she did not have a map of the school in her head, and eventually, she gave up and headed to the Headmaster’s Office, the one place she was reasonably sure she knew how to find. 

The thing about a password and guard statues was that one didn’t really have a way to actually  _ knock. _

Luckily, she didn’t interrupt Albus and his guests, and she left a quick note on his desk explaining that she was headed home and hoped to speak to him soon. There were few safer places to encounter a former Death Eater than in Albus Dumbledore’s office, but she would prefer to avoid any contact with Karkaroff.

When Elodie walked through the Floo at home, she walked over to the picture window and saw that the moon had just risen. She stood and looked out at the beauty of the night, feeling very conflicted about having just barely missed that sliver of time when Moony was around. The truth was, she was grateful that she and Remus weren’t arguing so often, and she had wondered how awkward she might have felt if she  _ had _ gone to talk to Moony. Did she want to associate Moony with conflict and avoidance? Did she only feel a connection to him because she was greedy for any and all parts of Remus that seemed accepting of her? What did that say about her as a person?

Elodie sighed. She seemed to be asking herself that question frequently.

“That’s a soul-eating noise,” Sirius said softly, from behind her.

“Hey there,” Elodie said.

“Need a shoulder?”

“Desperately,” she whispered. Sirius came over and made a great show of taking note of where she was standing and where he should stand to offer the best head-leaning position possible. By the time he was done, Elodie was covering her mouth and laughing. From there, it was a simple thing to tip her head onto his arm, as she was actually too short for his shoulder.

“May I?” Sirius asked. Elodie looked up at him, and he slid his arm around her, so her head was resting on his chest. She nodded, and he adjusted the light embrace to be more load-bearing.

“That’s strangely solicitous of you,” Elodie said. “I figured you knew I’d always welcome a hug.”

Sirius barked out a short laugh. “Not sure you’ve ever vocalized that before, but it’s good to know. Might keep me out of trouble.”

Elodie thought about the conversation she’d overheard. She wanted to ask Sirius about it but couldn’t think of a way to bring it up without giving herself away. After going through a couple of rough drafts in her head, she finally gave up, deciding to simply enjoy the comfort of the moment.

“Is he okay down there?” Elodie asked, after a stretch of silence. She felt rather than heard Sirius make a kind of deep chest grunting noise.

“Yeah. Moony was very restless.”

“I feel guilty about that,” Elodie admitted quietly.

“Do you think he sees you as his girlfriend?” Sirius asked, shocking her. She hadn’t really voiced that possibility even in her own head.

“Maybe? Not sure it would do me much good if he did,” she said rather bitterly. “Can wolf manifestations even have girlfriends? I mean, by all rights, I  _ should _ see myself that way, after last month.”

As soon as she said this, she knew she’d made a mistake. Sirius’s arm around her tensed up, and he started to move away from her. She knew he was about to ask her what had happened, and she didn’t think she wanted to tell him. To her surprise, though, when Sirius had moved far enough to see her face, he didn’t press her for details.

Sirius just looked at her, his eyes tracing her face once, then a second time. Then, he shook his head and said, “Remus is an idiot.”

“Normally in situations like this, I’d laugh and say, ‘yeah, but he’s  _ our _ idiot,’” Elodie said.

“Not this time?” Sirius said, reaching down to grab her hand and weave his fingers in with hers in an odd kind of solidarity that made Elodie feel a little better.

“Not this time. Pretty sure he won’t let himself be anyone’s anything,” she confirmed, before she gave a big yawn. “I promised, by the way, to not go down there if I came home after moonrise. I should set up the couch.”

“Sleep in my bed,” Sirius said, squeezing their joined hands. His suggestion sent an odd shiver through her that spawned from the place their hands touched.

Elodie looked up at him like he had offered to body swap with Severus Snape. “I thought you just said you wanted to keep out of trouble?” she teased. 

“Oh, no no no,” Sirius said, releasing her hand and holding both of his up in a surrender gesture. “I didn’t mean to imply that I’d be in the bed with you. Though, come to think of it, it’s ridiculously huge, so I’m not sure you’d even know I was there--but no, I’d sleep out here. I promise, that’s what I meant.”

“You circled back on yourself, just there,” Elodie said, laughing. “I’ll take you up on your offer, actually. Normally I wouldn’t, but I’m  _ still _ sick of sleeping on that couch.” She rubbed her chest gently, even though her shirt was covering her spiral scars.

“Do they still hurt?” Sirius asked, gesturing for her to precede him to the master bedroom.

“No, today what’s bothering me is actually the fabric. Usually the pain is more related to how the healing skin and scar tissue deals with anything that’s up against it,” she said, walking through his bedroom doorway. “This shirt is going right in the giveaway bin. It’s soft on the outside but the inside is this weird weave that seems to be full of little sharp edges, see?”

Elodie unbuttoned the bottom of the shirt and turned that part out, so he could feel for himself. 

Sirius looked dubious until he brushed his fingers against it. “Oh, that’s--that’s really odd,” he said, frowning. 

“I’m not sure I know how to transfigure it not to be like that, either,” Elodie said, shaking her head. “I guess I’ll turn it inside out to sleep.”

“If you were anyone else- _ -including  _ James Potter, by the way--I’d assume you were angling for one of my shirts with that story. With you though, I think I’m going to have to insist,” Sirius said.

“Oh,” Elodie said, blushing. “That wasn’t… I didn’t even think of that.”

Sirius had his lightweight blanket and pillow in a stack, and he started for the door. “Be right back. Stay decent,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and nodding at her slightly unbuttoned shirt.

“You probably think that’s cute, but you actually look ridiculous,” she yelled out after him, knowing that Remus couldn’t hear her, given the number of wards in place downstairs. In the strangest way, it felt like she was on a sleepover or something, with the adult of the house gone and just she and Sirius left to wreck the place.

When Sirius came back in, he shut the door behind him and looked at her speculatively. “Don’t freak out, but this is honestly the best shirt I have for sleeping,” he said, and then he took off the shirt he was wearing in one liquid movement, holding it out for her. When she just stared at him, he shook the hand with the shirt crumpled up in it. “Elodie, it’ll get colder the longer I hold it.”

“I-- Okay.”

Feeling a bit wild-eyed, she walked over and took the shirt from him. She walked it back to the side of the bed she’d been standing at, and when she turned her back on him and reached for the button at her throat, Sirius cleared his throat.

“Could I?”

Somehow she knew what he was going to ask. “You want to see the scars?”

“My memory says at least some are high enough up not to be indecent?” He raised his eyebrows to make it clear that it was a question.

“You’re right. Come here?”

Elodie didn’t turn around to watch him. She didn’t think he’d put on another shirt, and something about a half-naked man walking toward her as she stood beside his bed, preparing to unbutton her shirt for him was just… too much for her to handle. You could only explain that away in your head for so long before it became something else, she felt.

When Sirius was so close that she could feel the warmth of him through her sleeve, she finally turned around. “I don’t know how to tell Remus this, but they’re probably not going to fade,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt three buttons and pulling the shirt to the side. It wasn’t enough, and she swore under her breath and just unbuttoned the rest of it. He’d seen her like that before, after all. He’d get a chance to reset his memories of her without all that blood, but maybe she was just looking to rationalize this moment for herself.

“That’s gorgeous,” Sirius said in an reverent voice.

In the month since her injury, Elodie had done everything she could to promote healing; she’d been treated with Dittany within minutes, kept still during that first week, was diligent about keeping her bandage on, and applied the healing cream meant to prevent scarring. When she had examined it in the bathroom mirror, Elodie had decided her injury almost looked like someone had pressed a large rose against her chest, the petals cutting curves and crescents into her skin as it spun. It was very obvious, though, that they weren’t going to heal to the point Remus seemed to hope. She would always carry this oddly beautiful series of scars.

Sirius lifted his hand, and Elodie forced herself to stay still as he gently traced the top-most curving scar with his thumb. His grey eyes met hers, and she was not brave enough to hold his gaze against the wild energy she could see there. Elodie almost felt like she recognized this look--it was the kind of expression Sirius had probably worn as he had confronted Peter. The way he’d looked when he had asked Harry to live with him. Hope and a promise lay in that expression, whether it was a promise of ruin or of security, come hell or high water. It was thrilling, terrifying, and unexpected.

Elodie wasn’t strong enough to confront it.

Instead, she murmured, “Thanks for your help that day.” She turned around, and in as impersonal a manner as she could, she stripped the shirt off the rest of the way and pulled Sirius’s t-shirt over her head. It was loose, but not too loose, given how tight he liked to wear his clothing. Elodie hopped into his bed, sliding her legs under the covers and pulling the blanket up to her chest before sneaking a look at him again. She planned to take off her bra after he left the room, but given his propensity to tease about inappropriate things, she wondered if he’d make a quip about it.

“Sleep safe,” Sirius said. “I’ll be the half-naked vagrant on the couch if you need anything.”

“All right,” Elodie said, yawning unexpectedly. She turned the pillow under her head so she could hug it as she slept on it, and Sirius ended the spell that had lit the room for her before he shut the door.

8888888888888888

In the morning, Elodie had trouble finding where she’d put her wand. Sirius didn’t have a nightstand, so she had set her wand beside her in bed, and then tossed and turned while she slept until it was hidden somewhere hidden in the blanket. When she found it and cast Remus’s time charm, it said 10:22 AM. She’d either slept dead to the world or Sirius had cast a  _ Muffliato _ , because she hadn’t heard any sounds through the night or that morning, not even the characteristic squeak when Remus’s door was opened too widely before it was shut. 

When Elodie got up, she immediately started looking for her button down shirt. She wanted to avoid running into Remus on her way out of Sirius’s room, which was a little too much like sneaking for her tastes. She didn’t want to put on her buttoned shirt again, but she also didn’t want to just waltz out of Sirius’s bedroom wearing his shirt like she had any right to. Instead, she put the buttoned shirt over Sirius’s for propriety’s sake. Elodie realized she should hurry, too, since Sirius probably hadn’t been in to get different clothes, so he was probably haunting the rest of the house, shirtless. She didn’t do anything with her hair, didn’t look in the mirror, just grabbed her wand, threw on her old shirt on top of Sirius’s, and started out the door.

And nearly walked into Remus, because apparently waking up in a book universe meant that cinematic timing always applied.

“Oh, g’morning,” Remus said sleepily. 

Elodie’s heart sank. “Hey there,” she said, pulling the un-buttoned edges of her shirt together, which was a mistake that drew Remus’s eyes to her hands. In desperation, she tried to explain herself without being obvious about it. “I’m off to tell Sirius he can have his room back. I came home after moonrise last night,” she said, and then turned to walk into the living room as if she were rushing to speak to Sirius. 

“You-- Oh!” she heard Remus say behind her. 

Elodie lifted her eyes skyward and mouthed ‘thank God’ to herself.

“So, that little interaction was interesting,” Sirius said.

“Just saving your ass for you,” Elodie bluffed. “Since, you know, I’m wearing your shirt and coming out of your room.”

“Well, thank you then,” Sirius said, faking a bow even though he was sitting, one hand in front of him and one in back as he bent over. Then, when she was almost all the way downstairs he added, “Glad to know you care so much about my ass!”

“Last Word Syndrome,” Elodie laughed to herself, rolling her eyes before she shut the door to her bedroom.

8888888888888888

Later in the day, when everyone was dressed, Remus brought out the copy of  _ Orion’s Belt _ that his first column was in. He sat between Elodie and Sirius on the couch as they both read the article over his shoulders. The first part was about the  _ Alohomora _ spell and its origins, and what spells people tended to use before it became more common. It looked like all of those spells were destructive, so Elodie could understand it being important that  _ Alohomora  _ was created that kept everything working properly. When she got to the section about an alternate spell, she was completely captivated by Remus’s take on it. It was obvious that this column was what had gotten him his job.

> In my research for obscure alternatives to  _ Alohomora _ , I came across the story of Marcelin Cacher, a French wizard living in Belgium at the time of the first Muggle world war. Cacher was a baker whose customer base fell away dramatically when the Muggle troops from Germany invaded his adoptive country. As his business was with both magical and Muggle customers, he felt unable to simply pick up and leave without generating suspicion. Then, his house was appropriated by a German officer. At the time, the MPO (Magische Provinciale Overheid) was overwhelmed with requests from their own citizens, and flatly refused Cacher any assistance.
> 
> Cacher was described by friends as devoted to Charms, and he had come up with quite a few that benefitted his bakery. Now, with his home taken from him, Cacher himself had to destroy most of his magical possessions in order to preserve the Statute, and for this he was considered a dissident. The officer who had stolen Cacher’s house was most unhappy by the condition it was in, and as a result, the bakery was seized. As he holed up in a friend’s basement, Marcelin Cacher designed a special charm to open doors.  _ Reserō Ōstium  _ is the fascinating result. This charm is a sanctuary charm, one of only a few that have survived to be documented through the ages. When used, it works only if the caster seeks no harm to the true owner.
> 
> Cacher had a strong a sense of responsibility to his faithful customers, and with  _ Reserō Ōstium,  _ he felt as though he was a steward for the residents whose houses he borrowed. He baked bread there, leaving notes for the owners, and before curfew, he went around with his bread, making sure the poorer of his customers had something to eat. There is a book that is now out of print by Cacher’s daughter Emilie Peeters that has some of those letters, as well as the story of his survival after the war. Cacher’s secrecy and the limited use of his spell has led to its obscurity, despite his daughter’s book and a few articles about it before the second Muggle world war.
> 
> Readers who wish to cast this spell themselves will find it difficult. It is a situational spell which is closely tied to the emotional state of the caster. Should you find yourself in a position where you have a pressing need to hide, thanks to the spell’s emotional component precise wand movement is not as important, and neither is your aim. Focus on your need for safety, lift your wand, and cast  _ Reserō Ōstium _ at a locked, safe haven, and you should be able to enter unhindered.
> 
> I will see you in two weeks when we examine the spell  _ Reparo. _

 

“They don’t do the bylines with the images until you’ve been with the paper for a few months,” Remus told them. “I hope it’s optional.”

“I really loved that last part, about the baker,” Elodie said, impulsively kissing Remus’s shoulder. “That was so fantastic! It also feels like somewhat of an opportunity, if we’re right about You Know Who.”

“Really? How?” Sirius asked. “I’m not trying to knock the idea, just can’t see what you’re getting at.”

“It’s super dark, actually. I shouldn't have said anything,” Elodie said, making a face. She’d been thinking of the times during the seventh book, when Muggleborn students were being literally hunted down, and there were Snatchers out looking for ways to find people to punish.

“Dark or not, if it’s something useful, I’d like to hear it. I won’t judge you for thinking contingency plans,” Remus said quietly.

“In a future time if people like Lord Git get their way, people might be looking for sanctuary, again. I mean, the Potters needed to hide. That’s all I was thinking. I am usually more thoughtful than to bring it up.” Elodie twisted her fingers in her lap and shook her head at herself.

“I’d much rather hurt sometimes than erase my friends from all conversation, since the history books have gotten so much wrong.” Remus nudged her with his elbow and she looked up to see a twinkle in his eye.

“I solemnly swear I will not set you on fire,” Elodie said without thinking. Instead of being suspicious of her, though ( _ because why would they be? _ she reminded herself), both Remus and Sirius burst out laughing.

“What? What did I say?” Elodie asked, joining in with relief.

“We did some solemn swearing at Hogwarts,” Sirius said. “It didn’t always end well.”

“Back to what you said before, though--I like the idea,” Remus told Elodie. “You’re basically saying that I should keep an eye on current events when choosing which spells to cover?”

“Kind of,” she said. Her best example was the way dictionary.com’s website would choose topical words as the ‘word of the day,’ but she felt like trying to make up an imaginary internet to host those words on would get lost in translation. “I’m struggling to come up with subtle examples, though. Like teaching alternatives to  _ Protego _ when things start looking dire, or more mildly, a time charm during mandatory curfew.”

“I get it. I like it,” Sirius said. “That’s underground resistance stuff.”

“I really hope we don’t reach that point again,” Remus sighed. “We’re running low on members of the resistance.”

“That isn’t new though, is it? I mean, you were barely out of school,” Elodie said.

“We should be on top of that, actually,” Sirius said. “They were all over my brother, before he was even of age, to start listening to their Dark Lord shit. It was effective back then, and I can’t imagine they’d stop, now.”

“Not to mention the children of those recruits. Narcissa Malfoy’s son is in Harry’s year,” Remus pointed out.

“Apparently he is a little shit,” Sirius said. “Heard the Gryffindors complaining sometimes, last year. Still grateful my aunt Bella never spawned.”

“Do you think Harry’s old enough to know who might be targeted? Or should we ask someone older, like Fred and George Weasley?” Elodie asked, her fingers itching for a notebook to write down a list.

“I don’t want Harry to ever have to think about this stuff,” Sirius said. He stood up and walked over to the fireplace, crouching down to clean the hearth. 

“I can go over to the Weasleys sometime soon and talk to Molly about it. I mean, Percy Weasley is Head Boy this year, or I’d ask him,” Elodie said. “I feel like asking the Head Boy to inform on some of the students under him would be something only a few kids would be okay with, and definitely not Percy.”

“James would have, wouldn’t he Moony? Lily would have probably hexed him for it, too,” Sirius said, grinning at Remus. Elodie knew she couldn’t really ask Sirius not to use Remus’s Marauder nickname, but she always felt uncomfortable when he referred to Remus as Moony. She knew how different those two aspects of his personality could be. Then again, so did Sirius.

“If you frame it as looking out for those students, Elodie, I am not so sure Percy would refuse.” Remus looked thoughtful. “He is all about propriety, yes, but he’s also a very genuine young man, and a Gryffindor besides. We could all be worrying for nothing.”

“You taught there last year, what do you think?” Sirius asked Remus. 

Elodie didn’t know if the 1992/93 school year had many Death Eater students in the higher grades for him to have made much note of. Draco was probably too young to have much of a sphere of influence yet, she thought, and most of the Death Eater names she recognized where closer to Sirius and Remus’s age.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t see anything worrisome, but then, I try not to anticipate grown-up motives from my students,” Remus said. “Whoever they’re trying to impress outside of class time is not my concern.”

“Admirable, but frustrating.” Sirius curled an arm around Remus’s neck and made a big show of kissing his cheek. “You’re a disgustingly good role model. Always have been.”

Elodie scooted back on the couch to stay out of the way, snickering. She could completely picture the frustration on James and Sirius’s faces at their Prefect best friend’s devotion to that role.

“Did he ever give you detention, Sirius?”

“How did you--?” Remus started to ask, ducking free from Sirius’s grip and getting up from the couch. He stood in front of the couch, waiting for her response.

“Guess you were a Prefect? Come on,” Elodie teased him. “Studious, responsible, and best friends with most likely two of the biggest troublemakers in his year? ‘Remus Lupin, Gryffindor Prefect’ is obvious.”

“She keeps harping on the fact that we’re Gryffindors, Moony,” Sirius said in a whining voice. “Like that’s a bad thing.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing!” Elodie protested.

“Even if it was, I’m not so sure you’re not a Gryffindor yourself,” Sirius added, turning his body on the couch now that Remus was no longer sitting between them. He nudged Elodie’s knee with a sock-clad foot as he stretched out, his hands clasped behind his head.

“I wouldn’t know,” Elodie lied. She’d seen some Gryffindor in herself when she’d read the books for the first time. Her mother had called her a Ravenclaw, her best friend sometimes joked that she was a Slytherin, but deep down, Elodie saw a lot of Hufflepuff. As a foreigner who had yet to fully read Hogwarts, A History’s in-depth analysis of the Houses and their famous members, though, she probably shouldn’t let on to the two wizards just how much she knew about the attributes of the Hogwarts houses.

“Come on, brewing Wolfsbane for a werewolf you never met?” Sirius pushed, his tone still teasing. “Harboring a dangerous fugitive?”

“Casting a charm that risks your safety in order to speed up a potion?” Remus said from his chair across from them.

“Don’t  _ you _ start!” Elodie said, covering her face. “The way you two are talking you’d think no one could ever be a genuine friend to another person unless they’re a Gryffindor!”

“There’s friends, and then there’s  _ friends,” _ Sirius said, laughing now. 

“All right, that’s enough, Sirius,” Remus warned, sounding less amused now.

“Come on, Remus,” Sirius said, throwing his hands out expansively “This is ‘illegal Animagus’ territory, and you know it! Aren’t you pleased that you manage to inspire your friends to such lengths?”

The mood in the room instantly shifted, and Elodie shot a look over at Remus. He had one hand over his eyes as if he were deeply upset. Sirius, though, still had an excited, almost unbalanced expression on his face.

“Oh, don’t look like that, Remus,” he said in a begging whine. “So what if she knows? I want to come down there with you on the full moon!”

Elodie felt a sick, sinking feeling that Remus’s strange jealousy of her friendship with Sirius might re-emerge from this revelation. How could she have forgotten that part of why Sirius could shift into a dog in the first place was to be with Remus! If she’d remembered, she could have done something to make it easier for them to hide it from her. She felt like she’d let them down, but made an effort to look confused and curious.

“We couldn’t talk it over first?” Remus demanded. He seemed to be torn between the emotions of frustration and anger. “You are too impulsive, Sirius. It’s going to get you hurt or killed!”

“Hurt or killed, because I want to tell Elodie about Padfoot? Honestly, Remus, what are you on about!”

Until that point, Elodie had plausible deniability, but Remus had told her about Padfoot. She stood up anyway and shook her head, covering her ears with both hands lightly.

“I don’t want to know, if it makes you two fight,” she said. I’ll just take a book downstairs.”

“No, don’t, he’s just making up reasons to be difficult, now,” Sirius said, his eyes shining with manic energy. “What’s wrong, Remus? Don’t want me to shift with you on the full moons anymore? Has Moony moved on to greener pastures, then? Rather spend a little time with Elodie before moonrise than hang out with me?”

Elodie was completely horrified. She didn’t think Remus really knew much about what Moony had done with her, and she hadn’t wanted to encourage him to think about it, frightened that those memories existed somewhere, if he were motivated enough to find them. Now, her genuine attempts to discover what Sirius knew about that short period of time every month had led her to share something with him that he was using as a weapon against Remus. It was really against both of them, though, and she turned her back on Remus to plead with Sirius with her eyes.

“My screaming at him before he transforms isn’t really something he’d value over a friendship like yours, no matter what you’re talking about, Sirius. Please, stop.”

Sirius continued as if she hadn’t said a word to him, though. “I bet you didn’t think about the fact that I met her first, did you?”

Remus made an angry noise of frustration behind her. She couldn’t tell whether he was upset about Sirius’s last statement or the whole situation, though. Elodie lowered her hands from her ears and grabbed her book, holding it clasped in front of her with both arms. She was going to leave the room, but not before she got Sirius’s attention, so she walked over to stand right in front of where Sirius was looking at Remus.

“I’m not going to listen to whatever you’re trying to tell me, not if it makes you mean,” she told him. “I didn’t confide in you to give you ammunition in an argument!”

Remus’s voice came from so close behind Elodie that she jumped in surprise. “He used to get in moods, sometimes. There was no arguing with him. You should probably go.”

“Oh yes, scare her away before I tell her all of your secrets. You know how unpredictable I can be when I get in a mood,” Sirius said in a mocking tone. “I thought you liked the truth, Moony? Telling her I’m an Animagus should make you happy!”

Now Elodie wished she had turned away from Sirius, so he couldn’t see her flinch when he once again called Remus ‘Moony.’ Whether or not it had been a childhood nickname for the men in the room, for her, it had an entirely different meaning.

“An Animagus?” she said, letting her eyes grow wide with faked shock. “That’s amazing!”

“Go ahead downstairs, I’ll ward the door,” Remus said quietly into her ear.

“Sending her back to the scene of the crime, eh? Are you going to lock me out so I can’t see the two of you?” Sirius said. He wasn’t reclined on the couch any longer, but he did have an air of loose abandon about him as he sat on the edge of the couch and leaned on his hands. Elodie had been trying to extricate herself, or at the very least persuade him to stop acting so hurtful, but his last statement made her want to punch him out. She put her hand over the handle of her wand and walked over to him, her heavy book still held to her chest.

She might not hex him, given how taboo it was to attack one’s friends, but she might still wallop him in the head with her book.

“I want to know about your secret, but not if you’re going to use it and other secrets to bludgeon us with how miserable you are about being stuck here hiding,” she said, hoping her guess was correct. “Anything I told you in private as a friend was said because of the bond of  _ trust,” _ she added, emphasizing that last word. “Am I no longer able to trust you?”

Sirius was breathing more heavily now, and his eyes were focused on Elodie instead of Remus.

“You can’t keep secrets forever,” he said, rather petulantly. “You should tell Remus about Moony. I want you to know about Padfoot.”

“Against Remus’s wishes, no matter what his motivations were to object?”

“It’s not  _ his _ secret!”

“And your snide comments about Moony aren’t  _ your _ secret, but that didn’t stop you, did it?” Elodie said angrily. “I don’t want to argue with a grown man about his decisions, to be quite honest. I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to try ruining other friendships with the things I’ve told you in need of advice. But,” and here, Elodie crouched down to be at eye level with him, “I thought you were better than that.”

“I’ve never pretended to be a good man,” Sirius half growled at her.

At that, Elodie straightened back up and started walking toward the stairs to her room in the basement. She wasn’t going to dignify that kind of a response, no matter what was going on when he said it. As she walked past Remus, he held a gentle hand to her arm to stop her.

“He’s not using ‘Moony’ as a nickname, is he?” Remus asked her, looking concerned.

“No, he isn’t,” she said flatly.

“Did Moony hurt you?”

“Not a bit,” Elodie said. She started walking for the basement again, and she shot a look over her shoulder at Sirius, who had his head in his hands.

“Were you ever going to say anything to me?” Remus asked, sounding like he was starting to get angry at her flippant responses to his questions.

She didn’t turn around, but she did stop walking. “What would I have said? I had a few encounters with your wolf self. Considering you seem pretty unhappy with having one in the first place, I didn’t think you’d appreciate a play by play!”

“He’s  _ dangerous, _ Elodie,” Remus hissed at her.

“Sometimes I feel like I can be  _ so _ much less careful with him than I am with you,” Elodie found herself saying, almost like Sirius’s reckless truth-telling had rubbed off on her in the worst way. Then she walked through the door to the basement and shut it behind her with a careful but loud bang. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I want to reassure readers that I'm not artificially keeping anyone apart--things are coming to a head for these characters soon! 
> 
> I also want to add that the relationship/s in this story are a huge part, but so is the way Elodie wants to affect change. There's a lot of story left.
> 
> Lastly, I adore creating little bits of history for this story, and Remus has some articles to write, so if you would like to suggest any spells that he might write about, I'd love to hear them!


	23. Coping Strategies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faced with the revelation that Harry Potter's name was chosen as a participant of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Elodie, Sirius, and Remus each cope with the news separately, and then together. With Firewhiskey. Later, Elodie speaks with Molly about her plan to find out how things have changed at Hogwarts over the years, with an eye on keeping Harry safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the argument with Sirius the night before was probably because it was the anniversary of James and Lily’s death, October 31st. I don’t directly address it in the story because it’s from Elodie’s PoV, and she’s not infallible--she didn’t remember. The men don’t bring it up the next day, and that’s probably for a lot of reasons, but I know that *we* know something happened, so I wanted to tell you all that it wasn’t an omission. :)

Elodie was so het up about her argument with Remus and how Sirius had behaved beforehand that she skipped dinner and basically read in her room until she fell asleep. The next morning, everyone was a bit tense. While they usually didn’t eat breakfast at the same time, it seemed that everyone’s innate sense of ‘it’s time for breakfast’ coincided with everyone else’s that morning, and that was how it happened that all three of them sat at the table to eat together.

“I would just like to say,” Elodie started, once the food on her plate was half gone.

“No, don’t do it. This is working,” Sirius whispered in a frantic hiss.

“You are so sure what she’ll say will make this worse?” Remus said, looking at Sirius with a hilariously cross expression.

“I would just like to say,” Elodie repeated obstinately, watching both men smile when she spoke, despite the mood at the table. “That I think the fact that no one turned around and left the room when it became clear we were all hungry at once is a good sign. I think it’s actually kind of sweet.”

“I didn’t want to make it worse by walking out,” Sirius said.

“Didn’t want to hurt feelings, yeah,” Remus agreed.

“Exactly! That’s precisely the right attitude, to smooth things over,” Elodie said, grinning at them.

“I also figured that if he was eating a bagel, he wasn’t going to force me into eating his terrible cooking, so it was worth staying and making myself one,” Sirius added.

“Sirius!” Elodie covered her face with both hands.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I only made the bagel because I was afraid if I started cooking, he’d take over and we’d all die of malnutrition,” Remus said blandly.

Elodie waited for Sirius’s retort, and when there wasn’t one, she peeked at him through a gap in her fingers. He and Remus were grinning at each other.

She hazarded a guess. “You two made up, after I went downstairs, then?” 

“Yup,” Sirius said.

“So this whole ‘everyone’s full of angry tension at the breakfast table’ was all in my head?”

“Yup,” Remus said.

_ “Honestly, _ the pair of you!”

“Well, I’m off to the shed. I think I might take a flight with Buckbeak, too, he’s seemed a little antsy.”

“Give me a list of your supplies?” Remus asked, kind of plaintively.

“If you’re worried he’ll go buy them himself I can take pictures of the shed,” Elodie offered Remus. “Anything that looks different would be obvious, and even though I’m saying this in front of him, he’s too lazy to disillusion any of the new things he’d buy to hide them anyway.”

“FINE,” Sirius said, in a decent Harry Potter impression. “But I’m adding sweets to the list.”

Sirius left, and Elodie leaned over and whispered to Remus, even though they were alone in the house, “He sure showed you!”

To her surprise, he turned to smile at her even though her head was still near his. Then he froze a little bit before giving her a concerned look, then turning away.

_ Ask him what that was, _ she thought to herself.  _ ASK! _

“What just happened?” Elodie asked, her heart in her throat and one hand fisted into her skirt under the table in an attempt to keep from trembling.

There was a second of unbearable tension, and then he asked, “Were you only  _ arguing _ with Moony?” His eyes were shut tight as if afraid of the answer.

His question left her speechless, and she sat there trying to think of what kind of an answer he wanted so she could figure out how best to answer him. She counted her breaths to twenty, trying to slow them down before she finally said something.

“Are you sure you want the answer?”

“You’re deflecting,” he accused, opening his eyes and giving her his best ‘disappointed Professor’ look.

“You’re the one sitting there with your eyes screwed shut like a kid afraid to hear they won’t get a pony for Christmas, Remus!” Her tone was incredibly fond, but she couldn’t help it. He danced around things so often that she was reveling in the unusual opportunity to call him out on it.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” he said, but instead of holding her level gaze, he got up and started tidying his dishes.

“Do you have a bridge to sell me if I believe that one?” she asked lightly. She got up and stood beside him, taking out her wand to start the kettle. 

“All right, I  _ should _ want to know,” Remus amended. He reached past her and lifted up his cup from the stack under the overhanging cupboard, flipping it over for her to put tea in when it was ready.

“That’s progress,” she praised him. He shot her a cross look that had her repressing an answering grin. It was too close to the full moon to let Remus know just how much she loved when he looked mildly cross at her.

“It’s just that I felt lonely, when I was back to myself again, the last full moon,” he said in a quiet voice. “I haven’t felt that kind of lonely in a long time.”

Elodie ruthlessly filed this information away to be reacted on later, biting the inside of her lip to hold back any outward signs.

“Do you think you could sense Sirius was in the house? Maybe Moony misses Sirius.”

“A logically sound theory, but I didn’t feel like that during the first month after the move,” he pointed out. Remus turned and leaned against the counter, his hands gripping the edge. “The other thing that was different was you.”

“That I wasn’t in the house? Or I didn’t come down to scream at you like a petulant teenager?” she asked, walking over to the doorway to the living room to lean against the wall there.

“Don’t tell the teenager, but you had a few good points before I zoned out,” Remus said, looking down at the floor.

“What is that like?” Elodie whispered, terrified of the answer. “Do you ever remember?”

He looked up from the floor at her without lifting his head. “Do you want me to?”

She froze in place. He’d neatly trapped her into the physical admission she was displaying, her heart rate high, body language guilty. It hadn’t been enough days since the full moon for his heightened awareness to dim back to normal levels, and she could see on his face that he was reading her almost greedily.

“I’m going to run away now,” she whispered. Elodie walked over to the coat rack by the door, grabbed her thick brown sweater, and opened the door. It wasn’t very chilly for the 1st of November, so she walked out and pulled the door shut behind her. 

While she pulled her sweater on, Elodie let herself look toward the house. Remus hadn’t called after her, and she saw him at the picture window. She waved, because she didn’t want to seem like she was upset, just a complete coward, which was somehow better in her own mind.

She started for the patch of trees nearby, knowing there were some rocks and a stream to look at. She needed the distraction, today.

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When Elodie was done with her walk, she stopped by the shed to see Sirius, but he wasn’t there. She realized that Buckbeak was also missing, and with a smile on her face, she sat down outside on a chair she’d conjured, hoping to see Buckbeak and Sirius flying in. After a minute or two of waiting she decided to cast a disillusionment charm on herself so that he wouldn’t see her until he landed. That way she could see how he might behave, just by himself with Buckbeak.

She wasn’t disappointed.

When she finally saw him, she’d been sitting for ten minutes just enjoying the slight chill in the air and memorizing the way things looked around the property. She’d been faced away from where Buckbeak was coming from, so when she turned and could see them, Sirius was already close enough for her to see his face. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back, and his arms outstretched, despite the angle that Buckbeak was flying. The danger of his position and his seeming carelessness about it made her hand fly up to her mouth, but the lower they got, the more Elodie could see that he  _ was _ paying attention. The angle of his lean got steeper along with the hippogriff’s, and eventually, he opened his eyes and bent over to say something to Buckbeak.

When they landed, Sirius threw himself down and rolled to his feet, and Elodie felt her heart jump with something that wasn’t exactly fear. The reckless joy with which Sirius lived was as massively intimidating as it was fun to witness, sometimes. She stood up when he walked past her with long, purposeful strides, and she remembered she was still disillusioned. Before she startled him by appearing out of nowhere, she transfigured her chair back into the collection of sticks it had been before, and stood still, watching Sirius drag a bag of feed from inside his shed. He scooped out a generous amount of food, all the while telling the hippogriff what a wonderful beast he was. There was just something about the way he was behaving, and Elodie realized what it was--he wasn’t using magic. 

She hardly ever saw Sirius doing menial things, and she’d assumed that was a legacy of his upbringing. A pureblooded scion of a well-respected and ancient family never needed to lift his finger unless he  _ wanted  _ to. Here, it was clear he wanted to. The message that sent to a family who had rejected him was so powerful that Elodie wished she could record this moment of watching Sirius Black tending to his hippogriff and show it to Walburga Black, record her horror just to show Sirius, so she could see him throw his head back and laugh. Elodie just  _ ached _ for the ability to do this, to help him kick the dust off of his feet, right into the face of the woman who didn’t deserve him. But his mother had died years ago, and Sirius didn’t deserve to have his new friend focusing on family he’d turned his back on.

There were tears on her face, and she wiped them away with a sleeve in irritation. The very point of this moment, to him, was the sheer banality of it. Crying in recognition just ruined the point, she thought to herself. Elodie lifted her wand and cast the spell to become visible again, timed so that she didn’t startle him.

“Good morning for a walk, or a flight I guess,” she said to him, mentally facepalming at her inane statement.

“Wind in my hair,” Sirius grinned at her. He started dragging the bag of feed back into his shed, and Elodie turned away so she didn’t offer to help or comment on what he was doing. 

“Oh, an owl!” A large barn owl swooped down toward them, a scroll attached to its leg. It wasn’t Hedwig, and Elodie realized around the same moment that Sirius started reading the letter what it had to be.

Harry Potter’s letter about his name coming out of the Goblet of Fire.

Sirius’s face twisted with anger as he read.  _ “Dumbledore,” _ he snarled, thrusting the letter at her and starting for the house. 

Elodie didn’t read it, because she knew what it said. She tucked it into her pocket and ran after Sirius, hoping that Remus would catch him before he tried to go through the Floo into the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts. There wasn’t anything about that in the books, but would Albus tell Harry that his Godfather had lost his mind in anger and come looking for blood the second he had gotten Harry’s letter? She doubted it.

“--should have known that this whole thing is a trap, and I’m going to just calmly walk through and tell him what a complete and utter blind  _ fool _ he is being!” Sirius was screaming, full voice, at Remus.

“ _ Clipeum!” _ Remus cast, aiming his wand at the fireplace. A silvery oval crust formed over the opening, making it clear that it was unusable.

“Thank you, Remus,” she murmured, knowing Sirius’s rant would stop him from hearing her, but Remus’s lycanthropic hearing was still likely active. 

“It might not help much. He knows he can’t Apparate, but I wouldn’t put it past him to take Buckbeak.”

“Should I distract him?” Elodie asked Remus. He shot her a horrified look, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Good God, what are you picturing? Your face!”

“Do neither of you see how serious this is?!” Sirius was standing in front of the Floo, one hand gesturing at them like he was incredulous.

“It’s got to be a trap. Harry is too young. I’m willing to go speak with Albus, Sirius, but you can’t come. You must stay here with Elodie,” Remus said, walking over to the front door to pick up his shoes. 

“I’m going to say something, Sirius, and I want you to please not punch me in the face, okay?” Elodie took out her wand and prepared to cast a spell.

Elodie looked Remus in the eye, then she flicked her gaze over to the fireplace and back. She hoped he would understand that she planned to ward the fireplace to keep Sirius in, once Remus took the shield down. She didn’t intend to cast the same spell, since she didn’t know it, but she’d think of something. Remus nodded, and she could tell that he was very angry by the way his jaw was clenched. He was hiding it far better than Sirius, but Remus Lupin was definitely about to give Albus a piece of his mind. She wished she could watch.

She had a job to do, however.

_ “Accio Draught of Peace!” _ she cast, holding her hand out in preparation.

“For fuck’s sake, Elodie,” Sirius started to say. He stomped over to her, and in that moment, Remus took down his shield and stuck his head in the fireplace, calling Albus’s office to see if he was available. She couldn’t hear if he was getting a response, but she couldn’t give Remus her full attention anyway.

The Draught of Peace flew up the stairs, the door blowing open as it passed. She’d only summoned it to get Sirius’s back up about thinking he’d be the intended recipient, but now that she had it in hand, she was sorely tempted to drink it herself.

“This is not for you,” she told Sirius. “It  _ might _ be for me, depending on how much of your anger I end up faced with.”

“Remus is going to be too polite,” Sirius whined.

“Albus, you don’t understand. I WILL be coming to speak with you today, and the longer you make me wait, the better prepared I will be to argue with you!” Remus shouted, his head still in the fire.

“Are you sure about that?” Elodie asked Sirius, hearing the pride in her own voice. Remus was still polite, sure. Furiously angry as well? You betcha.

“Tell him it’s either you that’s coming or ME,” Sirius hollered over to Remus.

“Albus I’m telling you, you’re going to prefer my coming now. If we have to wait, I may be busy and you’ll end up with Sirius.” He paused and added in reply to something that Albus said, “Elodie agrees with me. She’s busy keeping Sirius in this plane of existence, Albus. We’re all furious, and I’m sure you’ll be hearing from one or both of the Weasleys.”

Finally, Remus pulled his head out from the fireplace, dusted himself off, and grabbed a new handful of Floo Powder.

“Think of James,” Sirius said, his eyes bright and angry. “Give him hell.”

“I plan to,” Remus said, before he tossed in the powder and announced his destination. After they watched him spin away, Sirius shocked Elodie by collapsing at her feet in the middle of the living room floor.

He landed on all fours, as Padfoot.

“Wait!” Elodie said, running around him to snatch up Remus’s slippers. “Want me to ask Remus to bring back Albus’s slippers? I’d do it,” she offered. Sirius’s jaw opened and his tongue lolled out in as close to a doggie laugh as she could imagine, but he shook his head. He ran over to the front door, and Elodie frowned. “You want me to let you out, what are you going to do?”

As if in response, Sirius ran helter skelter around the edges of the whole living room, and the wind he created from his passing caused a couple of papers and other random items to fall to the floor.

“All right, but while you’re outside, the  _ whole time _ you’re out, I’m going to sit with Buckbeak,” Elodie said.

Sirius played dead.

“You’re hilarious. I’m serious, though, Sirius. You’re important. You need to stay here.”

Now, Padfoot circled Elodie twice, and pushed against her, sending her sideways into the door.

“Knocking me down in front of the door is only going to block your way, buddy,” she pointed out, but she wasn’t hurt. She opened the door and followed Padfoot outside, assuming that Remus would know to call and make sure he could Floo home safely. He’d be able to see that there was no shield over the fireplace. Once outside, she grabbed the pile of sticks she’d used to conjure up a chair before, transfiguring it into a more comfortable chair, this time. Then, she pulled it over to sit close enough to Buckbeak that she could cast a hex on Sirius if he tried anything like climbing up on the creature. Elodie had cast a locking charm on the front door, just in case Sirius thought he could circle back around. She was facing both the house and Buckbeak, from her position. 

A chilly wind had started to blow, and Elodie rubbed her hands on her arms to generate some friction to warm up, before she rolled her eyes at herself and cast a warming charm. Sirius had run in circles so many times by now that she lost count. He was going to be hungry, and it was close to lunch, but there was no way in hell she would leave him the chance to take the hippogriff while she made food.

“I really should have checked the time before we came out here, you know,” she said to Buckbeak. The hippogriff looked over at her from where he was nestled into a pile of leaves and small sticks, and dipped its head at her. Then, he seemed to follow Sirius’s circuit of the yard with his eyes, turning back to her to snap his beak at her, very lightly.

“He’s really angry,” Elodie tried to explain. “Someone he loves might be in danger.”

At this, Buckbeak furled his wings out, and Elodie shook her head, both in wonder and in disagreement with the possible offer of help.

“Sirius would be in more danger if he went anywhere. So, he is running, instead.”

Buckbeak settled back down into the nest, dipping his head down to poke at the sticks with his beak. He looked sad, and Elodie thought that she was probably projecting, but not by much. She felt that the creature might understand at least some words, the word ‘danger’ most likely of all.

Elodie didn’t know how long she sat outside, but it was at least an hour. Padfoot came up to her, panting like crazy, and before she could stop him, he jumped up onto her lap. He was far too big to do that, and she was shocked that the chair didn’t collapse beneath them. 

“So, you’re a dog sometimes,” she told him gravely. “I should have known that Guardian the dog was a bit too smart to be real.”

Padfoot shook himself a little and hopped down, nosed under her hand, and then ran for the house. She took out her wand and ended the spell on the door, which was just in time anyway, as before Padfoot reached it, it opened and Remus waved at them from the doorway.

She could predict what was going to happen before it did, but it was still funny to watch.

From the stairs, Padfoot leapt directly at Remus, and when he saw the black shape hurtling toward him, Remus dropped the package in his hand to open his arms. Elodie had seen the object when he opened the door, and she’d already had her wand out to end the locking charm. She was grateful that her spell worked at a distance, and after she cast a charm to slow the object Remus had dropped, she pulled it with her magic toward her. Once she had it in hand, she saw it was a large bottle of Firewhiskey.

Elodie sucked in a breath. It couldn’t be more than an hour since Remus had left to speak to Albus. That meant that the conversation must not have been very long if he had time to stop at another place.

She walked into the house to be greeted by two wizards laying on the floor laughing. The smell of pizza also caught her attention.

“You smell fantastically awful, Sirius,” Remus said, holding his nose as he got up. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might prefer the dog.”

“And that’s really saying something,” Elodie chimed in. “Kind of you to hop up and dust me with your dog sweat before going indoors.”

“We all smell like utter shit,” Sirius agreed. “Three way shower?”

“Sirius!” Remus objected.

Elodie was usually prepared for his outrageous comments, but this time, for some reason, his words had caught her unawares, and she had a few seconds of picturing what that scene might look like before she could stop herself. Her face turned bright red, and she started to walk faster. On her way through the living room, she set down the Firewhiskey.

“Remus, did you see that? She totally thought about it,” Sirius crowed. Then, he called out from behind her. “You passed the bathroom, love. Skipping the shower part?”

Elodie ignored him and continued into his room, grabbing the essentials of an outfit and conjuring two towels before she turned back around to hand them off to Sirius.

“You. Take these and clean up?”

He took the items, but the look on his face was no longer that of a joking prankster. “I can’t… I don’t want to be alone. I don’t mean anything by it, either, I’m just--”

“Remus could sit in there with you? All you have to do is ask, I bet,” Elodie suggested. “Remus?” she called out, twisting her body to look for him.

“It won’t be the same,” Sirius wheedled, unaware that he’d just revealed his surrender in the language he’d used.

“Turning up the flirt dial to eleven isn’t going to help more than the other coping mechanisms Remus brought, but it might end up hurting our friendship,” she told him sadly. 

“You could try flirting with  _ me, _ Sirius,” Remus offered. “Might work better after you drink the Firewhiskey I bought.”

“Tease,” Sirius threw back, but he turned to Elodie and, in a surprise move, kissed her cheek lightly. “Thanks for keeping me running in circles. It helped.”

She didn’t know what to say to him, and he didn’t wait to see if she did. She did have a question for Remus, though. “Albus won’t let Harry withdraw, will he?”

Remus frowned. “No, and his reasons were weak, in my opinion. I’ll talk more after, okay?”

“Okay,” Elodie said. She went into the kitchen and cast a stasis charm on the pizza, certain that Remus had been too distracted to cast one once he got home. She’d learned a few months ago that magical pizzerias had a special charm they would cast on their food that kept it fresh until the person carrying it crossed the threshold of a residence. She pulled out a few plates and brought both the food and the plates into the living room, grabbing the Firewhiskey and setting it and three Untippable Cups on the end table by her side of the couch.

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“Guess how I know I’m drunk?” Elodie asked Sirius.

“‘Cause you’re gonna agree to strip poker?”

“No,” Elodie said sadly. “I wouldn’t, even if I was drunk. Which I am.”

“How, then?” Remus asked. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against his easy chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He did not seem like he was as affected by the alcohol they’d been drinking, which she supposed had to do with his being a werewolf. Instead, he just got quieter and sneakier, Elodie thought.

“Because I am going to tell Sirius that he didn’t make his bed since I slept in it.”

“How’d you know?!” Sirius asked. His astounded expression was so close to a fake astounded expression that Elodie couldn’t tell the difference, which made her frown at him.

“That doesn’t make sense. Just because the covers are rumpled doesn’t mean he hasn’t touched it,” Remus pointed out.

“The edge of the blanket made a pattern,” she said in her super spy voice. “And today, when I got his clothes for his shower? The blanket was in the  _ same _ pattern. I left it unmade because I thought he’d wash it after.”

“Sound reasoning,” Remus said. 

“Smells like you,” Sirius mumbled. “Don’t wanna wash it.” He had been sitting up and trying to pour more Firewhiskey for himself, not knowing that Remus had magicked the last of the liquid away to some other container in the kitchen when he had thought that Elodie wasn’t watching. After his confession, though, he scooted back all the way onto the couch, turning to face her with his hand under his face, leaning against the back of the couch. Elodie didn’t know what to make of what he said, though she suspected that Sirius hadn’t shared a bed with another human being for a very long time. That had to be it.

“Sounds like it’s probably time to sleep, Sirius,” Remus said. “If Ellie drinks any more she’ll fall down the stairs.”

“You’d carry her, Moony,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “You’d like that.”

“Merlin, Sirius! I forgot what you’re like when you’re truly sloshed,” Remus said.  _ “Please, _ stop talking.” He got to his feet, unsteadily, and came over to offer a hand to Sirius. Elodie watched with amusement as Sirius valiantly attempted to stand at least three times before Remus got out his wand and threatened to use a full body-bind to float him to bed, instead.

“Good night, Sirius,” Elodie said, sliding down to curl up on the couch as soon as he was successfully standing. 

“Goonight, Ellie,” Sirius slurred. “Moony d’you think she’d make a good Animagus? Elephant Ellie,” he giggled, and by the thump she heard, it sounded like he’d bounced off the wall at least once. There was a decisive sounding slam, and Elodie wondered if Sirius had gone to shut the door, and collapsed onto it instead, slamming it. The image was slightly amusing, though she couldn’t help but remember why they’d all been drinking.

She thought Remus would have gone to his own room after that, but she heard him come back in and start tidying up. Elodie meant to roll over and thank him for distracting Sirius when she didn’t know what else to do for the man. Harry  _ was _ in danger, she knew, but she couldn’t work to help lower that danger if Sirius was recklessly throwing his anger around. 

She was really comfortable, though, and she knew that meant she was quite drunk, given how much she was sick of sleeping on the damned couch. Though, she was laying on her left side, and it wasn’t that bad, right now. Maybe the couch was more comfortable on her left side? She should have been cold, though, since her shirt had slipped down and she could feel that a lot of her scars were exposed. So it probably was just that she was too drunk to really feel much discomfort.

Elodie took in a deep breath as she twisted her body into a long stretch, arms over her head, back arched. She wondered if Remus was still standing somewhere in the room, possibly  _ Muffliato’d _ while he cleaned up after the three of them. She really felt like falling asleep, but she didn’t want to start snoring or something, not with him in the room. When she’d stretched, another button had popped loose on her shirt, and the tank top underneath was all wonky, she could feel it bunched up under her arm, but it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Remus would cover her with a blanket?

Something about Remus seeing her like that sent off a warning bell in her head, but the place in her mind where those were connected to the corresponding warnings was decidedly off-line. So when she was just about to drift off to sleep, sprawled out on the couch she hated, without a blanket, her splinching scars all showing on her chest, she didn’t realize why it was that Remus made a sound of distress from the back of the couch.

“Oh, Elodie,” he whispered. 

She hadn’t meant to open her eyes, but he’d startled her, and by the look of it, she startled him by being awake.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she didn’t know if he meant he was sorry he’d woken her, or sorry that it had been their argument she’d been thinking of when she’d gotten splinched.

Elodie was very tired and still very drunk. “I think they’re pretty,” she said.

Remus smiled, then. “Me too,” he whispered.

Then he walked away, and Elodie heard the door to his room open too far and squeak loudly as he shut it, which told her he was a little more affected by the alcohol than he probably wanted to let on.

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The next morning, Elodie made a decision: anti-hangover potions were, hands down, the best magical invention ever.

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On November 2nd, Elodie went over to the Weasleys to speak with Molly. She didn’t need to ask Molly’s permission to ask her older children about their experiences with classmates at Hogwarts, but Elodie wanted to, anyway. It was unlikely that Bill or Charlie would have noticed any shady behavior in their (mostly Slytherin, if Elodie allowed herself to be honest) classmates, but she would be willing to bet their experiences differed with that of Fred, George, and Ron’s. Whether Percy saw anything objectionable that he’d be willing to share, Elodie didn’t know, but Remus was right. It was probably worth asking him anyway.

Besides, Elodie didn’t have the most favorable memories of Percy’s character, and she was certain that books written from Harry’s point of view weren’t the final say on someone’s  _ actual _ personality. She’d be happy to be set straight, not that she’d ever in a million years explain to Molly Weasley about why she’d need to be.

“Hello dear, I hope you don’t mind if you help with the folding?” Molly asked her when Elodie spun out of the Floo late in the morning.

“I’d love to,” Elodie told her. She grabbed a sheet from the large pile at Molly’s feet and started to shake it out, then she found the corners and paired them together. She didn’t have the reach her father had when they used to fold sheets at her house when Elodie was little, but she’d learned to fold any sized sheet perfectly, thanks to his loving teasing of her ten year old self, trying valiantly to fold a sheet that could have wrapped around her body six times over. It wasn’t until Elodie had gotten the sheet folded into a neat square that she saw Molly’s face.

Molly had a sheet floating in mid-air in front of her, and Elodie could tell that the precise folds that had already been performed on the sheet had been done with magic.

“I’ve never seen someone do it by hand! That’s fascinating. I should have Arthur see this, he’d be delighted,” Molly said. Her tone was all curiosity and no ridicule, and Elodie’s embarrassment faded away. She told Molly about how her father used to be so good at folding, thanks to his being six feet tall with the long arms that came with that height. For her part, Molly told her how she’d taken so long to master the dual magic of hovering the sheet and doing the turns and folds by magic that her twin brothers used to tease her mercilessly.

“Let me guess: they never learned either?” Elodie asked, laughing.

“Gideon did, but Fabian never tried,” Molly told her, smiling broadly in recollection. “They were both Aurors, you know, and Fabian always wanted to be one. He always said he wouldn’t have any use for such a spell as an Auror anyway, so it wouldn’t matter.”

Goosebumps rose on Elodie’s arms on hearing the names. She knew she’d heard them before, and Molly’s use of the past tense confirmed her suspicion. Though she knew what had happened to them, she still wanted to respect their memories, and the fact that Molly had brought them up made her next question less painful, she hoped.

“You say ‘were,’” Elodie said delicately. She tried to think of how best to phrase the question, but Molly caught her meaning.

“They’re gone, yes. Killed by Death Eaters,” Molly said. She was facing Elodie but her eyes were far away, lost in memories. “They were in the Order, back then, where Arthur and I were not. Too busy with the little ones!” Molly snapped back to the present and briskly folded up two smaller sheets in rapid succession.

“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” Elodie told her. “I actually came her to ask you something that references Death Eaters, in a tangential way,” she added. “I can ask another time, though, if it’s not a good--”

“Oh, nonsense, dear. I can mourn and fight at the same time.”

The vulnerability in Molly’s voice even as she said that strong, unequivocal statement made Elodie’s eyes prick with sudden and unexpected tears. It was such a powerful thing to say, and it was going to have to be  _ true, _ if Elodie didn’t manage to help change things for the better. Instead of trying to hide her emotional reaction, Elodie decided to own it.

“That is incredibly powerful, Molly. Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t expect that to affect me so much! I wanted to ask you, well, first tell you why I wanted to ask--oh!” Elodie threw up her hands. “I’m so bad at organizing things so they come out of my mouth in the right order!”

Molly had a hand in front of her mouth, laughing. “I don’t mean to laugh  _ at _ you, Elodie, it’s just that you’re so earnest about that fault of yours!”

“I’m used to it, to be honest,” Elodie told her. “So: we’re worried about Harry, first of all,” she started to say, only to be interrupted by a puff of angry mutterings from Molly regarding the Tri-Wizard Tournament. “Exactly! We’re upset, too, all three of us. And one of the things we’re trying to do about it is figure out if there’s been a change in atmosphere at Hogwarts, since Harry’s first year. It seems like there’s somewhat of a tone shift in some of the students and definitely in the odd occurrences at the school.”

Molly snatched her half-folded sheet out of the air and pointed at Elodie excitedly. “I’ve been telling Arthur! Yes! It’s since Harry started. Fred and George and Percy never came home talking about… about  _ petrifications _ and portraits slashed into ribbons before he started!”

“So it’s noticeable even as a parent, wow,” Elodie said, pulling out her miniaturized notebook and casting to return it to its true size. “I was hoping to ask you, do you mind if I send Owls to Bill and Charlie to ask them about their years at Hogwarts, too, on top of asking the twins and Percy about it? I got to meet Ron when I was here that one time; I don’t want to make him feel more stressed about what Harry’s going to have to go through, if I can avoid it.”

“Goodness,  _ Ron. _ Yes, good idea there. You don’t have to ask me whether or not to send Owls to the older ones, of course! You know Owls can find a person, right?” Molly held her half-folded sheet to her chest when talking about Ron, almost as if she were trying to hug her youngest son by proxy. Then, she tossed it back up into the air and swiftly cast her levitation and folding spells in a move that was so expert that Elodie’s jaw fell open.

“Well, yes, I do know that, but I also know they’d probably send you a message to ask what was going on, and you’d rather hear my questions from me, am I right?” Elodie guessed.

“That’s true,” Molly said. She brushed something off of her lower leg, then looked at it, swore mildly under her breath as she picked it up and walked it into the kitchen and out of sight. When she came back, she said, “You know, when Arthur and I were at Hogwarts, it wasn’t until the very last year that things felt different, but now that you mention it, there  _ were _ things I noticed, then. Harsher treatment by some students toward Muggle born students was some of it.” She frowned. “That would all have been worse, for Sirius and Remus’s time there.”

“Oh! Harry’s mother was Muggle born, I read that in a book,” Elodie said, not specifying the book.

Molly nodded. “They’re probably planning to compare the experiences of Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy to their own years there. The amount of time that the hatred and violence took to get to boiling point was quite a while, in the end. I shudder to think of it happening again.”

“That’s the worry. That it’s happening again,” Elodie said, hugging her own half-folded sheet against her. “I can’t pretend I know that much about it, but if I can do something to prevent that, I want to at least try.”

Molly cast a levitation spell on her finished stack of sheets. “By all means, talk to my children,” she said. “We can’t bury our heads in the sand, if any kind of that sentiment is coming back. Cornelius Fudge is a fool if he wants to pretend otherwise, after the World Cup!” She walked the sheet stack up the stairs a little ways, then called down to Elodie. “I’ll be right back, Elodie! If you’d like a treat, I have a few biscuits cooling on a rack in the kitchen.”

Elodie tried not to make a beeline for the kitchen, but after eating some of Molly’s cookies at the Order meeting, she was definitely heading in for a treat. In the kitchen were two metal drying racks, both filled with what looked like Snickerdoodles. When Elodie took one and bit into it, she couldn’t help the ‘mmmmm’ sound she made. They were Snickerdoodles, all right.  _ Perfect  _ Snickerdoodles.

“Watch out for the mistletoe,” Molly said when she walked in a minute later. “Are they any good?” she asked, nodding at the cookie in Elodie’s hand.

“Thith ith dewithus,” Elodie told her, having just taken a huge bite. When she chewed and swallowed, she asked, “Mistletoe?”

“Yes!” Molly said, instantly full of indignation. “Fred and George and their wild schemes!” She walked over to a box in the corner of the kitchen, which was floating inside of a protective bubble, while wrapped in what looked like a transparent garbage bin liner.  _ “Apparently, _ they ordered this box to be delivered here, as they can’t get commercial packages from Zonko’s at Hogwarts anymore.”

Elodie tried to stifle a laugh. She could completely understand, knowing the Weasley twins, why it was that Molly had ended her sentence with ‘anymore.’

“They’re supposedly perfect for Hogwarts, they told me in their letter begging me to send it along to them!” Molly was saying. “‘But, Mum, they’re only activated by a special spell, or by magical transportation. Since there’s no Floo travel or Apparition at Hogwarts, they’re completely, utterly safe!’” she recited from memory. 

“You said they’re mistletoe?” Elodie asked, a bit confused.

_ “Enchanted Mistletoe!” _ Molly spluttered, levitating the tiny sprig from where she’d placed it on the counter. “Do they have them in America? They trap a person in place until they are kissed. I’m sure it’s a fond memory for many a witch and wizard, but the packaging left quite a bit to be desired, I’ll tell you! Zonko’s might have a good reputation, but when the Owl dropped it off with us, the whole box practically exploded!”

“Oh dear,” Elodie said.

“In my day, it could trap you by yourself, mind you. They’ve improved the spell a great deal, added a detection charm. Now you can’t be caught unless someone’s near enough when it triggers,” Molly told her. “Well, you can just imagine the nonsense, when the thing popped open. They might not activate much at Hogwarts, but I have errands to run! Arthur has a job to do!” She leaned over conspiratorially to Elodie. “I’ve had to go with him to work, you know. Just the first few minutes, to make sure none of them activate on arrival. I won’t have him deal with that embarrassment, not at the Ministry.”

“That is incredibly romantic,” Elodie said, delighted. She could totally picture the Weasleys hopping in the Floo, one after the other, checking to make sure that neither of them were trapped in place. They probably kissed each other whether or not the mistletoe activated, she was sure of it. “Why would the twins need magic mistletoe at Hogwarts, though?”

“They were going to  _ sell it, _ if you can believe that!” Molly laughed.

“Wow, that’s--that’s actually really clever, though,” Elodie said. “I mean, it won’t accidentally activate at Hogwarts, they’re right--and if you can trigger it with a specific spell, you buy that from Fred and you stick it on your crush and cast the spell, BOOM.”

“You’re right, and I  _ am _ proud of them, but they didn’t warn me at all,” Molly said, sounding torn. “By the letters I got from both of them they’re incredibly disappointed that I haven’t sent it along. I wonder if I can cram the rest of them in there, or order another? They told me they were counting on the money they were going to earn, that’s why they bought it so early.”

“They’re in sixth year, now?” Elodie asked.

“Yes.”

“If it were me, I’d send them some, at least. Less money I’d have to provide for their amusement!” Elodie pointed out. “When I’m done with the letter, do you want me to it to you before I send it? Since the twins are underage?”

“Oh, you are such a sweetheart,” Molly told her, coming over and giving her half of a hug, as her other hand was busy cramming the loose mistletoe she’d found into the bag. “I trust you.”

“I really appreciate your insight, today. I hadn’t really thought about the comparison between when Remus was at school, and how things are now, for Harry and Ron. Maybe that’s why he sent me over to chat, instead.”

“How is the house sharing going, by the way?” Molly asked. She probably thought she sounded mildly interested, but to Elodie’s ear, she sounded like she was fishing for details.  _ Romantic _ details. 

Elodie really wished she had romantic details to share.

“It was touch and go at the beginning, there. Remus was  _ not _ used to sharing house with people who expect to feed him regularly,” Elodie told her. “Do not try to mother Remus Lupin unless you are Molly Weasley, I think was the lesson I learned, there.”

“He’s learning, though?” Molly dangled the question like a master angler. Elodie didn’t bite.

“We’ll see!” she said cheerfully. “I’m off, I’ll tell you when I’ve sent them, all right? And I probably won’t send Owls to all three of Ron’s brothers at Hogwarts at the same time. I don’t want him to feel left out.”

“Yes, it’s hard enough that his best friend has such a reputation, the dear thing,” Molly said, her face lighting up when thinking about Ron. “He tries so hard not to be affected by that. I fear his jealousy might be a problem, though, what with the Tournament.”

“They’ll weather it, it’s a pretty powerful friendship,” Elodie said firmly. “Hermione will help.”

“That she will! Thank goodness for her, as well. Ron’s grades thank her, anyway.”

Elodie laughed and headed for the Floo. “Let me know if you mail that mistletoe?”

“I will!” Molly called out. Then, just as Elodie stepped into the fireplace, she heard Molly say something else. “Wait, I think you’ve got--” but the rest of it was lost to the whirl of Floo travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote three chapters this weekend! I'm working on chapter 30, so I thought you could have chapter 23 early!


	24. Perspective Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being rescued by a housemate, Elodie and Remus talk about what to do about Harry participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
> 
> A kiss for Valentine's Day!

By the time she finally heard Sirius Apparate into the kitchen, Elodie was starting to find the stepladder she’d conjured very uncomfortable to sit on. She was also strangely relieved. It had to be Sirius that Apparated in, because she knew the enchanted mistletoe above her head wouldn’t activate unless there was a possible couple to be caught in the first place, and Remus had already told her he’d be meeting with Albus at Hogwarts. Sirius’s workshop outside was clearly close enough to cause the damned thing to go off, but she hadn’t been brave enough to actually send him a magical summons to--what? Come inside and kiss her? Elodie had decided to just wait, instead.

If it had been Remus who came home, he would have come through the Floo and seen Elodie right away. Sirius didn’t usually Apparate into the house, but the sound of the spell was unmistakable, and she could hear the water running. He was probably washing away all of the dirt and grime from working on the bike. Cleansing charms on that kind of sticky, viscous stuff were too abrasive if used daily. Elodie was grateful that Sirius had let her buy him some Muggle anti-grease soap, but today she just wanted him to come into the living room so she could get him to peck her on the lips and call it a day.

The sound of the water in the kitchen being sloshed around continued, and Elodie started fidgeting on her step stool. She  _ wanted _ to kiss Remus, of course. Unfortunately, ever since she’d asked him  _ officially _ on a date, rather than settling for seeing him for book chat on the regular, he’d been incredibly stubborn. He flat out refused to believe her that she had genuine feelings for him as more than a friend. Fred and George Weasley’s idea of using the charmed plant as a marketing opportunity--trick your crush into a smooch!--was brilliant, but it was also exactly the wrong impression to make on Remus, if he came home right now. There was just no way he’d believe her that she hadn’t planned this, she was sure of it. Not only that, but she was stuck in place--would he take the opportunity to lecture her about the unsuitability of werewolves at the same time? Would he be unable to resist the chance, when she couldn’t walk away to show how stupid she thought his arguments were?

It was a shame, because this was exactly the sort of situation she’d want to read about two characters who were dancing around a possible attraction. Knowing him so well didn’t actually help, here, because not only had he pushed her away, but he would push Tonks away for some of the same reasons. At the same time, as Elodie had sat and waited for one of the men she lived with to come into the house, she’d wondered if the enchanted mistletoe might allow her to prove to Remus how she really felt. She had been torn between wishing he would come home early and hoping like hell he stayed away since she’d been caught by the damned thing.

If she were honest with herself though, this was a powder keg with an unstable off switch. If she was going to be forced to kiss one of her housemates to escape this blasted mistletoe, unbelievably, the safer option was Sirius Black.

...who was now standing in the kitchen doorway staring at her.

“You know you’re sitting on--”

“A stepladder, yes. It was the only thing I could conjure up that let me sit. Everything else was too short for the charm,” Elodie said, trying to keep a matter-of-fact tone in her voice. As she’d expected, when she said the word ‘charm,’ Sirius’s eyes searched around her and lit on the enchanted mistletoe hovering and sparkling over her head.

_ “Oh.” _

“Yes. So if you could do me a favor and just come over and--”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in an exaggerated display of confusion that she didn’t buy for a microsecond. “I need more information, here.”

Elodie gave him a level look that said,  _ seriously?! _ but his own expression didn’t change. She sighed.

“Okay, I’m sure you have at least a passing familiarity with Fred and George Weasley?” Sirius’s wide grin answered for him. “I was with Molly this morning, and she had been complaining that they’d mail-ordered like twenty of these things. One time use. She’s exasperated because they’re apparently designed to hitch onto clothing and stay dormant until the carrier uses magical transportation, like a sneaky joke virus or something.”

“I approve,” Sirius said, leaning casually against the wall and nodding. 

“Well, approve your way over here so I can do something more productive than  _ Accio _ books to read, because this is getting uncomfortable!”

“But Elodie, you read all the time! You could just sit there reading for another few hours, at least.”

Sirius was hardly ever deliberately obtuse, and this sparked suspicion; her resulting conclusion dropped her stomach in anxiety. “No, Sirius, don’t meddle in-- Stick to fixing your bike, all right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t think of a reason to force two of my housemates to kiss and make up, can you?” Sirius’s demeanor didn’t change even a tiny bit.

“I do not need relationship advice from you of all people, Sirius Black!” Elodie tried to stand up to yell, but she’d hooked one of her ankles behind a rung of the stepladder and her unsteadiness in trying to yank it back out ruined the effect. With a grumbling sound of frustration, she disappeared the ladder completely. She did not tell Sirius her unspoken attraction to Remus was no longer all that unspoken, because there was only so much leverage one should give Sirius when one was trapped by a charm, after all.

Elodie looked back over at Sirius. He was in the process of taking off the flannel work shirt he wore over his regular clothes when it was chilly outdoors. When he turned back to look at her, she saw that he looked a bit apologetic.

“You’re probably right, there. Faced with this, Remus would lock himself up tighter than a Goblin vault.”

“Thank you for seeing it my way,” Elodie said.

“Well, let’s not be too hasty.” Sirius walked away from the doorway toward her, but stopped halfway. “What’s in it for me?”

“What?!” she said, frustrated at him now, instead.

He pointed to himself. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to use this to my advantage! I have a reputation to protect.”

“Sirius Black, walk over here and--”

“I think  _ you _ should kiss  _ me,” _ he said, his eyes flashing with the challenge.

_ “I _ am stuck in  _ place, _ remember?” Elodie’s tone was as profoundly insulting to his supposed intelligence as she could make it. She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the mistletoe over her head.

“I mean when I come over there. I want you to kiss me. Like you mean it,” he dared her.

“You want… why?” Elodie didn’t know what made her ask like that, but all her animosity and bluster quieted as she waited for his answer.

Sirius looked surprised, too. Enough to maybe answer more truthfully than he might have ordinarily. “I miss it. Kissing, I mean. So I figure, I do you a favor, you do me a favor.” His body language was defensive, but his facial expression showed he was not kidding.

She tipped her head to the side, searching his eyes for some sign that he was bluffing. “But all it takes to satisfy the charm is a quick peck on the lips!” she told him. Sirius shrugged. The idea that he was genuinely serious chilled her and warmed her at the very same time. “Honestly, Sirius--that’s unscrupulous, even from you.”

“How is it any different from what you’re asking?”

Elodie put her hands on her hips. “I did  _ not _ set out to trap you, for one!”

“I didn’t set out to trap you, either, Ellie. This is just a pleasant surprise.”

“So you’re just going to-- to take advantage?”

His eyes glittered with that intensity that always took her breath away. “I am not a very good person, Elodie.” This theme had popped up in a disagreement with Sirius before, and he knew how much she hated when he disparaged himself. That was why when he raised his eyebrows and said, “So?” she put her foot down.

“I am  _ not _ going to kiss you back.”

“I think you are,” Sirius said, and he walked over toward her, standing just out of reach. “Because you won’t risk kissing Remus, and you don’t want to be trapped there for days.”

“I doubt it’s strong enough to last  _ days,” _ Elodie scoffed with false bravado.

“It won’t have to be. Remus will be home in hours, not days.”

“I’ll call… someone.”

“Sure you will,” Sirius said, stepping forward again. She could feel his physical warmth, but she also felt something else, maybe his magic, thrumming away under the surface. “You won’t have to, though.”

She knew his confidence was practically unshakable, and internally she cursed herself for rising to his dare at the kind of level that meant she had to either submit to him or talk him into backing down. Just  _ thinking _ the word ‘submit’ had her blushing, and the heat of his gaze made her want to shiver.

“Can’t think your way out of this one, Ellie,” Sirius said, walking around behind her while twirling his fingers in the ends of her ponytail. She tossed her head to chase his hand away, crossed her arms, and refused to turn around. She wished she still had her stepladder to act as a physical barrier to him, but summoning it now would be showing weakness.

He was behind her for a long time, it felt like, but she was determined to stand still and ignore him. Sirius Black was hardly ever quiet for long stretches of time without plotting  _ something, _ though, so she finally spoke up.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Why, are you uncomfortable?” he said from behind her.

“Oh! Just--” she spun around and lunged for his face, trying to reach up just enough to grab the quick peck she’d begged him for, but he dodged to kiss her neck. It felt  _ good _ , his lips on her, and the shock from that realization had her shrugging her shoulders up in tension, her arms flying up to brace against his chest in surprise. “Stop,” she whispered in his ear, as his hands came around to press at the small of her back.

“Stop me,” he countered, but he stepped back right away. Elodie felt the change in him, and wondered if the magical world was as poor in teaching their young people about consent as the Muggle world was. Given the very existence of the charm holding her in place, she thought it was likely. She was glad that Sirius of all people didn’t seem to have picked up on that moral fuzziness.

“See? You stopped,” she said, trying to encourage him. “Not a bad man.”

“Not a bad man, who’s trying to coax kisses from a woman in love with his best friend?” he said in a raspy voice, his eyes dark as they held her gaze.

“I’m--” Elodie’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I’m  _ not _ . And you--”

“--should know better. But I can’t help it. I’m  _ tempted _ ,” Sirius said, reaching up and tugging her hair tie loose before she could figure out what he was doing. Her hair tumbled down, curling and winding around her face and neck. 

Elodie glared at him and started to pull it back and away from her face. “Just… just close your eyes and picture someone else,” she suggested.

“Why would I want to do that? You don’t have to get  _ my _ help, you know. You don’t have to  _ pretend _ I’m Remus, you can just wait till he comes home,” Sirius said. He came up very close to her and put his hands in his pockets with great ceremony, probably so that she could see that he didn’t intend to touch her unless she let him. Even with his hands in his pockets, though, Sirius’s presence commanded her attention. She had to look up to see his face, but not as far up as with Remus.

“I meant picture someone you  _ don’t _ want to kiss, so you want to just get it over with,” she explained. 

The slightly impish expression on his face faded into a sober one. “I know where I am, and I know who I’m with,” he said. The intensity in his eyes as he looked at her was overwhelming. Elodie had to look away.

“Please,” she said. She wished she could properly explain to Sirius that this wasn’t a big deal, it didn’t  _ have _ to be, it was just a favor for a friend. “Just kiss me?”

Sirius whispered in her ear. “If you only knew what my younger self would have done to hear you ask that! But,” he paused, and despite her determination not to, Elodie turned her head to see his expression. He was looking at her lips as he said, “You first. Just pretend I’m Remus.”

She could just grab his face with both hands, hold him steady, and touch her lips to his in a swift move, enough to break the charm, and then walk away once she was freed. She didn’t, though. Elodie shoved him away, hard.

“I know who I’m standing here with, too,” she snapped at him. “I know who I asked for help, and it wasn’t Remus! Go away and stop tormenting me if you won’t help!”

Sirius drew in a sharp breath. “Tormenting?” he said, walking right up to her again, crowding her in her invisible magical trap. “I thought you were bored, not…  _ bothered.” _ As he said that last word, he brushed his nose against hers in a caress, his lips so, so close. 

It was so deliberately sensual, and the mood between them was so heated, that Elodie couldn’t stop her own swift intake of breath. She couldn’t hide how affected she was by him, not when he was forcing her to admit it in every way but words. She started to open her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her.

“Kiss me back and I’ll--” Sirius hesitated, and somehow she knew he was about to say something that would make her angry. “I’ll tell Remus what he’s missing,” he whispered, a brash smile breaking out on his face.

“So close to your better angels, Sirius,” Elodie admonished him. 

“The Dementors chased those away years ago.”

Elodie wished he’d break the tension and kiss her so she could stop anticipating and dreading it all at the same time. Something about this knife edge of tension was so enticing, and she didn’t really want to examine how much she was actually enjoying it. He was holding his hands together behind his own back, and she decided she wouldn’t touch him either, pushing at him with words, instead.

“You’re an  _ ass _ .”

_ “That’s _ my girl,” Sirius crowed,  _ finally _ closing the distance between them to press his lips to hers. It wasn’t a peck, but it wasn’t brief, either. It was a deep, hungry kiss of someone who never begged except like this. Sirius made a little groaning noise, and Elodie couldn’t stop her answering gasp in response. This left her mouth open enough for his tongue to dart in to taste her, and she felt like she was drowning in how good it felt, how much she wanted it to go on and on. The charm had released, and she leaned closer to him, one tiny shift in his direction. Elodie knew Sirius had felt it when he tore his lips from hers and swore under his breath. She opened her eyes and they looked at each other, both shocked at the other’s reaction. Then, he dipped his head to kiss her in the brief, gentle way she’d asked him for initially, right before he ripped his wand from his pocket and Apparated away.

The only indication that she’d been awake and not dreaming was the bristly brush of something sharp against her cheek. She reached up and found the spiky leaf of the formerly enchanted mistletoe. It had fallen into her hair when Sirius’s kiss had released the spell.

8888888888888888

Five minutes later Elodie was in her bedroom, with five different silencing spells cast in an increasingly angry voice protecting the room as she stood in the middle of it.

_ “WHAT _ the fuck  _ was _ that?!” she shouted, secure in her knowledge that no one else’s ears would hear the question.

“You can’t just go changing the-- I don’t understand why he had to-- It’s clear that he’s got some kind of a--  _ Why _ did he have to go and--”

She stomped around the room, frustrated with herself, frustrated with Sirius, and most of all, frustrated with the way she still felt, aroused and confused.

_ Well he DID ask Remus if he had intentions, _ she pointed out to herself. Somehow, though, Elodie had focused entirely on whether Remus had wanted to respond to those intentions with approval or disapproval. She’d completely missed that there might have been a motive behind Sirius’s questions.

Even now, she was trying to rationalize herself out of the situation. Sirius had said he’d missed kissing. That she was a woman his age, his housemate, and someone he was friendly with meant that it was probably only natural for him to jump at an opportunity to kiss her, right?

It hadn’t felt like he’d just jumped at an opportunity, though. It had felt like he was trying to persuade her. It had felt like he’d been fully invested in her responses--and this was a line of thinking she did  _ not _ want to let herself go down.

After a few minutes of shouting and ranting at the silent walls of her room, Elodie thought of something. She was, essentially, angry at Sirius for changing the way Elodie saw him. For changing her perspective of him as a dear friend to someone who made her gasp. He had made her think of him as a sexual being.

Was this what she’d done to Remus?

Not to that extent, of course, but, from friend to potential partner? This was such a paradigm shift for her when it came to Sirius, but how could Remus be surprised to find that she liked him that way? It was so difficult for her to imagine the roles reversed, but of course she knew her own mind. It was  _ Remus’s _ mind that was the complete mystery, even if she had tapped into glimpses of it at various times.

Elodie rested her head against the door of her room. She was tired and overwhelmed. And horny.

“Goddamnit, Sirius!” she yelled, because she could.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and she screamed in shock, thankful that her charms were still in effect. Elodie yanked the door open, 95% sure she’d punch Sirius in the face if he were on the other side of it. 

It was Remus.

Elodie held up a finger and started cancelling all of the silencing charms she’d cast throughout the room.

“--in Merlin’s name are you doing in here that you needed what, five silencing charms?!” Remus was in the middle of saying.

“I uh… was screaming at S-- someone.”

“What did Sirius do?” Remus asked, shutting his eyes and looking completely, mundanely prepared to hear about some really ridiculous and platonic action by Sirius Black.

For ten crazy seconds, Elodie contemplated telling him the absolute, unvarnished truth. That she’d come home from the Weasley household with enchanted mistletoe as a stowaway. That she’d been afraid that he would have been angry with her or accused her of ulterior motives. That Sirius had come to her ‘rescue’ instead, but in a way that led her to think that he had sexual, if not romantic, feelings toward her. That she was both terrified and fascinated about that.

The latter revelation was new, even to Elodie.

She said nothing about any of it, though.

“He ‘helped’ me with something in a frustrating way,” she decided to say, doing the air quotes with her fingers. “I’d rather not bring it up to him, though. You know how he gets. Did you need something?” 

“Oh, yeah--wanted to tell you what Albus was up to. Should I meet you upstairs?”

“Yes, thank you, I’ll be right up,” Elodie told him.

8888888888888888

A half hour later, Elodie was almost as angry as she had been when she’d cast all of her silencing charms.

“So he’s just going to use Harry as bait, then?!” she said to Remus, incredulous. In the book, this had been less clear, undoubtedly because they were in Harry’s point of view, and one did not tell a fourteen year old child that they were bait in a trap for the kind of people who had  _ murdered his parents. _

“Albus spent a good deal of time telling me how determined and prepared they were as a teaching staff to ensure Harry’s safety. I spent a good deal of time telling him what utter shit I thought of his plans,” Remus told her candidly.

“That really seems like he’s saying they’re going to cheat to keep him safe. I can’t see that being the most compelling option! Witches and wizards shrug away quirks in magic all the time, but somehow this magical Goblet of Fire is supposed to be unassailable?” Elodie said, throwing up her arms yet again in this conversation. “What if it had named a child in their first year? What if a teacher’s name had come out? What if it had chosen two names from  _ Durmstrang?!” _

“If you don’t start pacing in a different pattern, you’ll ruin the carpet,” Remus teased. “I promise you, I brought up all kinds of arguments. He was unmoved.”

“Well, I’m not going to let it go,” she said, turning around and walking a circuit between the couch and the front door instead of between the fireplace and the kitchen. “If Albus genuinely thinks there’s danger, then I’m not going to leave it up to just him to think about it. Where are Hogwarts’ weak points, personnel-wise? There’s the staff and students from each of the participating schools,” she said, conjuring up a Muggle legal pad and pen out of mid-air without really thinking much about what she was doing.  

“They’ve sent the unchosen students home, and presumably each school is to be run by their deputy headmasters this year,” Remus told her. “So the staff left behind will be, thankfully, fewer than those who came for the welcoming feast.”

“That’s good to know,” Elodie said, pausing at the front door to prop up her notebook as she jotted that down. “Were there any staff changes? Hagrid as Care of Magical Creatures doesn’t really count; he’d been on staff for ages already.”

“Other than Alastor Moody as Defense Professor, none that I know of,” Remus said.

“It seems unlikely that someone so frightened of a returning life force brand would be working for or alongside Death Eaters, but I can’t rule it out,” Elodie said. “For all I know, Karkaroff was conducting some strange sort of public theater performance for plausible deniability. In that case, my taking a picture of him only benefits his cause.”

“That’s a wise but scary point,” Remus said, looking impressed. 

“So that leaves Moody,” Elodie said, tapping her pen on her lips while she stood behind the couch thinking. Then, she remembered who exactly she was talking to. “Remus, what did the students say, if they ever said, about their previous DADA professors?”

“It was never complimentary, not even for Lockhart, and he is a famous author.”

Elodie didn’t know if it was common knowledge what had ended up happening to Lockhart, so she didn’t offer any insights, there.

“It’s a cursed position, and that manifests in many different ways,” Elodie said. “We know this in advance, so when we look at Moody, we need to keep that in the back of our minds. He has an anvil hovering over his head. What form will it take?”

“Elodie, the man is, quite simply, batty. He’s a competent Auror, one of the best around, but he sees conspiracies in every shadow. For all we know, Moody will decide that Hogwarts is full of threats and he can’t stand to be there for more than one school year.” Remus was sitting in his easy chair, legs apart as he leaned over with his arms resting on his knees. “He’s an older man, but by no means old.”

“Not as far along as Albus, one might say,” Elodie agreed. “Moody being strange, though, I’d say that might make it easier to, I don’t know… Feed him some sort of poison that makes him more erratic? Slowly weaken him? Impersonate him? How different would any of those methods be to his normal behavior, do you think? Enough to take notice, even for people who don’t know him well?”

Elodie was trying to be as careful as she could. If she ‘guessed’ correctly, that should look like it was a matter of having guessed a high number of possibilities. The disturbed look on Remus’s face told her that he found at least one or two of her suggestions plausible.

“What do you think about maybe having Sirius tell Harry to keep an eye on Moody?” Remus asked her.

This was exactly the sort of thing she was hoping she could convince him was a good idea, but she had to tease him just a little. “No pun intended?”

“Hah,” Remus said, acknowledging her with a nod.

“He wouldn’t even really need to tell Harry that anything specific was concerning the two of you,” she pointed out. “Just that the curse on the position means that it’s likely  _ something _ will happen, and it doesn’t have to happen at the end of term.”

“I’d hate to feel like we were  _ also _ pinning all of our hopes on Harry,” Remus said, frowning deeply. “I kept away from him over the years because I was honestly terrified Lily’s sister might find out what I was and it would convince her to keep Harry away from magic altogether,” he said, sighing. “Not that I went looking for him, mind you. I don’t even know that I could have found him. But every time I wanted to try, I just thought about how James would feel if his son never got the chance to ride a broomstick.”

Elodie stopped pacing to come over to Remus, but she didn’t touch him. She pretended to straighten the lace doily Molly had given them for his end table, instead.

“What was eleven years, you know? Eleven years to wait, compared to a lifetime,” Remus said, looking at her but not really asking her the rhetorical question. “Then somehow it was twelve, and I went to Albus and told him I needed Harry to know his father had at least one true, loving friend left alive.”

“Oh, Remus,” Elodie couldn’t help but say. She felt like by standing there she was hovering, somehow demanding he share his story, so she crouched down and sat cross-legged on the floor near his chair.

“Albus, being Albus, offered me the teaching job. It wasn’t even half-way through Harry’s second school year, and do you know what Albus told me?” Remus looked down at her and chuckled. “‘I have never been so glad of this curse in all my years as Headmaster.’ That’s how much he couldn’t stand Lockhart.”

Elodie laughed with him. “That’s amazing!”

“He asked me if I could wait, then. Wait to talk to Harry until he’d gotten to know me as a Professor first. Albus may be manipulative sometimes, but he really does know people,” Remus said. He scooted back in his chair and looked to see where his feet would end up if he changed positions, so he didn’t bump into her. Elodie smiled at his solicitousness, and then she saw that his socks had holes.

When she looked back up at him, his eyes had the same mischievous twinkle that people often wrote as shining in Albus Dumbledore’s eyes.

“Is this a trap, then?” she said, pointing at Remus’s feet. “If I want to keep your toes warm, does that tick the ledger more in the ‘mother’ column, or the ‘girlfriend’ column?”

Apparently, Remus had prepared himself tea before she had come upstairs, but hadn’t touched it until  _ just _ that moment. He choked on it, at hearing the word ‘girlfriend’ come out of her mouth.

“I could have said ‘lover,’ you know,” Elodie said, getting up off of the floor and leaving his socks unmolested.

“Now it’s just a running joke. My mother was very fond of that kind of humor, I might add,” Remus said when he was done coughing. His voice was still scratchy.

“I thought you two didn’t get along?” Elodie said, settling into her favorite spot on the couch.

“Mum and I… that was complicated. She loved me,” Remus said with an earnest look on his face, “--but she had a very bad temper, and like many people who hurt their loved ones in anger, she overcompensated where she could. She was also the kind of person who wanted to make up for things. So she always tried to work around her issues. We did a lot of activities that involved side by side work,” Remus told her.

“So she could avoid touching you as much as possible,” Elodie confirmed, her eyebrows starting to ache at the heights to which she was raising them while listening to him speak about his mother.

“I wasn’t very understanding, as a child. It took losing her in my last year at Hogwarts to really examine our relationship. It’s one of my biggest regrets.”

“I lost my father when I was pretty young,” Elodie said. “I think when we grow up and our relationships change with the people who knew us as children, we don’t always see the attitude adjustments like we do when we lose someone early on.”

“Two different evolutions, yeah,” Remus agreed. His stomach growled as soon as he stopped speaking. Looking sheepishly down at himself, Remus said, “Are you going to tease me about avoidance when I am not in control of the subject changer?”

“You mean how I didn’t tease you after my comment about the socks?” Elodie pointed out. Remus winced.

“Fair point.”

8888888888888888

Elodie practiced her own avoidance in offering to make Sirius a sandwich for lunch and then tricking Remus into delivering it, but she didn’t have as much luck at dinnertime. So, when she was done making lasagna and sugar cookies, she grabbed a cooled cookie in the vague shape of a motorcycle and headed out to Sirius’s shed. When she got there, she was surprised to see that it was nearly spotless, with everything stacked neatly and not a smudge of grime to be found.

“Am I going to have to make an awkward as fuck ‘love them and leave them’ kind of joke to get you to come back to the house?” she said to get Sirius’s attention. “Or is that ‘kiss and tell?’”

“Can’t I just have a lot to do out here?”

“Sirius,  _ you cleaned _ in here. You’re avoiding the house.” Elodie put her hands on her hips. “I’m just saying I’m not avoiding you, so you don’t have to reciprocate. We can be adults about this.”

“I like adult things,” Sirius said, turning from where he was sitting on the floor to wink at her.

“I guess I will take that as confirmation that you’re back to being your irrepressible self,” Elodie grumbled. “Though I’m starting to understand what makes Remus change the subject when I tease him about our own thing.”

“Ooh, you have a Thing, now?”

“I could  _ hear _ you capitalize that,” Elodie said, shaking her head. “It’s not a thing with a capital T. It’s an, ‘I asked him out, and he accused me of hero worship’ thing. Much less interesting.”

“He turned you down?” Sirius said, standing up and immediately bonking his head on a handlebar in the process. “Is he sick?”

“Nope, still very Remus,” Elodie confirmed. “The very same ‘I’m dangerous, you’re deluded, there’s nothing there, please let’s move on’ Remus.”

“So not just ‘werewolves can’t fuck normal women,’ but an added ‘you don’t know what you want’ on top of it?”

_ “That _ might have been too much information, depending on the definition of ‘normal women,’” Elodie said, wide-eyed.

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. “Women you’d marry. Women you bring home to James Potter’s awesome parents.” He put the last of his tools away and smiled a tight, slightly defensive smile at her. “You’re definitely normal.”

“I’m not sure I could think of a higher compliment than ‘I would take you to meet Harry’s grandparents,’ Sirius. Thank you!” Elodie said, hooking an arm around his side for a quick hug.

“You’re--” Sirius backed away from her and frowned. “I’m confused.”

“I’m confused that you’re confused?” Elodie said. She crossed her arms, realized that she probably looked defensive, and went with putting her hands in her pockets, Remus-style.

“You’re not avoiding me. You’re not uncomfortable.”

“I basically tricked you into kissing me, and you tricked me right back,” Elodie said, shrugging in as nonchalant manner as she could. “I mean, I went to my room and screamed ‘WHAT?!’ a whole bunch of times, don’t get me wrong.”

Sirius burst into his lovely barking laughter at this. “And you apparently asked Remus out, afterwards?”

“Oh, no no no no,” Elodie rushed to say. “You didn’t, like,  _ drive  _ me to-- no. That was days and days ago. I did joke about whether fixing socks were a girlfriend or a mother’s job, today, though. Which he conveniently ignored.”

“Considering you fixed my socks first, I’d really like to know his opinion on that. For... what did you say the one time?” Sirius said, missing her gasp as she recalled that moment for herself. She  _ had _ fixed his socks for him, on the day they’d first met. “For science?” Sirius said.

Thinking of the two men as somehow competitors in the same arena made her feel overwhelmed and overwarm. She stepped to the door of the shed and gestured for Sirius to join her.

“I brought you a cookie, but I’d rather you eat dinner first?”

“With two of us to sidestep and deflect from, we’ll end up teaching you how to dance, Elodie Merriman,” Sirius said to her in a warm, affectionate voice.

“I am sure I have no idea what you mean, Sirius Black,” Elodie said in as airy tone as she could manage under the circumstances. Sirius’s fond laughter chased her back to the house, though she would never have admitted to walking faster because of him.


	25. Weasley Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill, Charlie, and Percy Weasley send Elodie letters answering her questions about Hogwarts, and Elodie gets some looks for perusing a book about magical marriages shortly thereafter. 
> 
> Then, Elodie and Remus attend the First Task, and Elodie gets to speak with Charlie in person.

Elodie had been dreading a barrage of innuendo or something from Sirius, given his comment about deflection, but over the next two weeks, life in their little farm cottage had been relatively snark-free. On the nineteenth of November, Elodie got Owls from Percy and Bill Weasley, both writing in response to her letters to them about their years at Hogwarts. As she’d suspected, Bill’s years at school were very laid-back when it came to specific things like comments about blood purity and Muggle born students. The 1982/83 school year was the first full year after Voldemort had disappeared, and any students with those views were likely to keep them to themselves. Bill wrote that it had felt like the school settled into the joy that had come after the war during his years there.

In his letter, Bill wrote that as the oldest he had found living in the dorms a welcome relief from being the most mature member of a family of little boys. His first year at Hogwarts had been the first year where he’d felt like he had a choice of responsibilities. He’d gravitated to Defense Against the Dark Arts as a favorite subject as he grew older, in some ways because of the loss of his uncles Fabian and Gideon during the war.

Elodie found Bill’s long and detailed letter to be engaging and honest. It was a fascinating glimpse into a person the books had not delved into much, and she found herself re-reading it twice, shortly after his Owl had delivered it. 

Percy’s letter had been short, formal, and exceedingly polite. He’d written that he tried not to see students’ Houses as much as seeing them as individuals, especially as Head Boy. He actually had kept diaries of his years at the school, something he said he wouldn’t be able to refer to for her until the Christmas holidays. His recollections off of the top of his head, Percy had written, were that the past few years were decidedly more frosty in terms of House relations.

She didn’t re-read his letter as much as Bill’s, but Elodie did find herself coming back to the end of it:

> As I wrote above, I do try not to examine a student’s House too closely when it comes to predicting behavior, but over the past two years in particular, this has become very difficult. The students from Slytherin House seem to revel in causing grief to my fellow Gryffindors, and despite my best efforts, theirs is the House that I’ve taken the most points from when it comes to behavior. I had a meeting with Deputy Headmistress McGonagall about this issue just a few weeks ago, impressing on her my desire not to seem punitive. She was quite kind to me in that regard, and assured me that she, too is having trouble correcting Slytherin behavior. Though this was a private meeting, I’m sharing that aspect of it with you as I feel it is relevant.
> 
> In looking at your questions, I find the common theme something I must answer ‘yes’ to, despite how distressing that answer ultimately proves to be.
> 
> Do I see a growing tension between students of a pureblood ancestry versus those who come from purely Muggle backgrounds? Yes, unfortunately I do. Have there been more incidents of insults or out of classroom altercations that revolve around blood purity or House loyalty since I first started at Hogwarts? Yes, there have been. My conclusions based on these questions and your letter is that there may be a growing worry among the adults in charge that something is brewing, the culmination of which may have been the riot at the end of the World Cup.
> 
> Thank you for trusting me with your questions, Miss Merriman. I had not previously considered the ‘tone of the school population’ in my metrics for success as Head Boy. You stated that you have sent letters to both Charlie and Bill, whose experiences would differ from mine due to age, and therefore I shall avoid seeing any differences as flaws in my observations. As I stated above, I will be able to look through my diaries from my earlier years as Prefect and get back to you on the ‘tone’ question more broadly.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Percy Weasley

Elodie hoped that someone was in a position to give that young man a hug. He seemed like he dearly needed one.

On the twentieth of November, Elodie received another letter, this time from Charlie Weasley, who told her he would make time to speak to her in person, as he was due to arrive at Hogwarts in a few days to assist in the First Task. He exhorted her to please not tell his mother (or the two Hogwarts champions) that he was coming, since he knew she would be most unhappy with him for helping with the Task.

> Elodie found his last few lines to be very amusing, and she decided she would be delighted to meet him soon.
> 
> Mum is completely livid about Harry being chosen, as I’m sure you know, but this Task has been in the works for over half a year! It’s less hush now, except for the dragon breeds involved, but I would appreciate your silence until I get a chance to say hello in person.
> 
> Bill owled me to say he’d sent you half his life story, so it’s possible you’ll be asleep for the next month anyway. 
> 
> I’ll pop you an owl when we’re all set here, probably some time on the 23rd.
> 
> Charlie

“If all it takes to get that kind of a smile on your face is to send you an Owl, then do you have some parchment I can borrow?” Sirius said after she’d finished unspooling Charlie Weasley’s message.

“I smile like that every time you’re genuinely funny, Sirius, so I don’t know what you think would change if you sent me a letter,” Elodie said to him sweetly. A persistent coughing noise erupted from the general vicinity of Remus’s chair shortly after she said that.

“I am wounded,” Sirius protested. Elodie made sure to pat him on the head like a small child when she walked past him on her way to putting her letters away. She retrieved the book she’d planned on studying that day and curled her legs up underneath her to crack it open.

After five minutes, Elodie turned a page and happened to look up to see Remus looking at the book with a look of trepidation. He didn’t notice her looking at him, and she turned her head to see Sirius also looking at the book, his eyebrows raised.

Elodie made a big show of turning her book around to read the title for a second, shrugging, and opening it back up to her page.

“Uhh, Ellie?”

“Yes, Sirius?” she answered, not looking at him.

“Can we go over your timeline for the past few days for a second?”

_ Now _ she was even more confused. “What?” she asked. She’d expected him to rib her about her book, but this was not the approach she had expected.

“Well, you’ve been getting Owls from male members of a pureblood family, and now you’re--”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Elodie interrupted with a huff of a sigh. “Ignoring you now!”

“Does it really say  _ Magical Marriage Throughout Time?” _ Remus asked Sirius. “I can’t quite see it when she’s got it turned away from me.”

“Not you, too!” Elodie said despairingly at Remus. “It’s just a book. It’s got good stuff about the brand in it!”

“Does that mean anyone who got those soul mark things on their arms are technically married to Lord Git?” Sirius asked, sounding delighted.

“No, it’s not part of the ceremony. That’s done separately,” she told him, flipping to the part of the book about the brand. She’d actually been reading about recipes that have been associated with marriage over the last thousand years.

“So you’ve read that part already?” Remus asked.

“Yes, I was reading about recipes, now,” Elodie answered. “There’s some good ones about capturing one’s crush via their favorite foods and forcing them to submit to your every whim,” she joked, peeking at him from the top of her book.

Remus looked cross, and it was entirely too cute for her to maintain her straight face.

Sirius still had the last word, though.

“I’ll be taking  _ that!”  _ he said, neatly lifting the book out of her hands to start reading, throwing her impish looks every so often as she demanded it back.

The joke was on Sirius, though, because now  _ he _ was reading a book about magical marriage, and she doubted that was what he really had in mind. The recipe she really wanted to read about, though, was one that was also in her big fancy potions book, so she let Sirius think he’d won and went back to the bookshelf to grab her  _ Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyrd _ book.

If Elodie had discipline today, she’d look at the Fidelity Potion first, but she didn’t. She flipped to the section where the book detailed recipes that used potions, and found the fancy entry for the cookies  _ (biscuits)  _ she was looking for. The book was heavy, and instead of charming it lighter today, she hefted from the couch up onto her lap, ignoring Sirius’s attention-seeking page turning. The recipe had a whole section of the ‘Recipe’ tab devoted to it, with one half detailing the recipe itself and all of the complex instructions for how to achieve it, and the other half about the invention and history of the recipe, including its place in wizarding society. There were also a couple pages of pictures, with a moving one that showed exactly how the recipe would fail when the conditions of creation and consumption weren’t met.

Elodie felt anxious, excited, and determined, as she looked at the pictures. She placed one hand flat on each full page, closed her eyes, and asked herself if she was really thinking of doing this.

“Nothing is going to come oozing out of there after you open your eyes back up, is it?” Sirius asked, leaning over to try to look at the pages of this book, too.

“Nope, and you already stole one book, you’re at your quota, so back off,” Elodie told him, shutting the book lightly but firmly on one of her hands, to hold the place.

“If you’re so worried about brewing and cooking, Sirius, how about you make us more tea?” Remus suggested, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Or fix Remus’s socks?” Elodie suggested with an arch look at Remus.

“Sirius has to pick one of us to flirt with per day, and he already picked you, so alas, my socks must remain en-holed,” Remus said.

“Or you could fix them yourself, unless that would count as self-love,” Sirius said. He stood up and stretched his arms over his head before adding. “You know, with your wand?”

“Wizarding innuendo, the thing I didn’t know I didn’t need,” Elodie quipped. “I’ll make the tea.”

She got up and went to the kitchen, putting on the kettle before starting to put away the dishes. The collection of tea mugs in the corner of the counter next to the fridge were hardly ever moved around anymore, as each of them had chosen their favorite and stuck with it. Elodie’s mug was covered with leaves in varying shades of green, with one of the richest colors as the coating for the inside of the cup. Sirius still drank from his ‘ride a Quidditch player’ mug, and Remus used a wide-mouthed Gryffindor mug with the Hogwarts crest.

“Do you know what this house needs?” Sirius asked her, walking in with Remus’s mug to rinse it. When she shook her head, he said, “A name. A little title for people to say when they visit.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” Elodie said, reaching up on her tiptoes to put some plates away. Sirius came over behind her and held his hand out for the next batch, and she handed them to him. “That would be better than anyone slipping up and saying ‘Sirius Black’s House’ when they’re coming to see you.”

Sirius shot her an exasperated look. “It’s not selfishly motivated, you know. I just like the idea of living in a named place. I’m not sure what our address is.”

“You sure Remus didn’t do that on purpose? Make sure that you weren’t tempted to Floo somewhere in a fit of rage, knowing you’d be unable to come back home?”

“Yes but at that point I’m already trapped out in the wilds, because we both know I wouldn’t go looking for Elodie’s Notebook of Notes to find out what address to shout when I was on my way back from kicking the shit out of Albus,” Sirius said, his hand held out for her to put a stack of bowls into it.

“You’d kick the shit out of Albus?”

“If he’d let me, yes.” Sirius shut the cupboard and turned to lean against the counter. “I’m not entirely sure he wouldn’t let me, either. He’s made some bullshit decisions over the years, one of which was to assume he knew more about what James Potter was thinking than either Remus or I did.”

“How about Phoenix House?” Remus asked from the doorway. “For second chances.”

Just as he suggested this, the kettle went off. Elodie went over and started making everyone’s tea, while Remus and Sirius had a moment in the doorway. She loved the idea of Phoenix House, especially because of the many applicable ways that the people living there had been given second chances. Sirius, a second chance at a normal life, despite his name not being cleared yet. Remus, a second chance at his friendship with Sirius, and more broadly, a second chance at life with Wolfsbane freely available. Even Elodie was living her own second chance, one that she was relatively certain was permanent, at this point. With Jerk Francis gone, was there anything or anyone left to drag her back to her mundane Muggle life in America?

When Elodie lifted the mostly drained kettle back to where it belonged on the counter, she nearly missed the flask Sirius tipped into her mug.

“What -?” she asked, only to be cheerfully greeted by Sirius, holding his mug up.

“To Phoenix House?” he offered, holding his mug with its spinning spoon into the space between where Elodie and Remus were standing.

“Phoenix House,” Remus said, nodding and clinking the mugs together.

“Phoenix House, with more second chances to come,” Elodie agreed, tapping her mug against both Remus’s and Sirius’s mugs. She was thinking of Alastor Moody, but she was also thinking about the recipe she’d found. It was a form of second chance for her, a second chance to show Remus Lupin how she really felt, in a way where he would be totally forced to believe her. 

8888888888888888

Sirius was like an excited puppy on the twenty-second of November, and Elodie didn’t really understand why until the next morning, when Sirius and Remus were talking animatedly at the breakfast table. Sirius looked tired, but there was an odd kind of longing joy that touched his features. It was attractive, and she impulsively gave him a half hug when she sat down next to him with her plate.

“Sirius spoke to Harry last night, through the fire,” Remus told her. “Harry saw the dragons Charlie brought.”

“He did?” Elodie said, feigning surprise. “I thought they were meant to be kept secret until the Task started?”

“They were, but it seems that the headmasters of both guest schools were able to see them, along with Harry. He says he was just visiting Hagrid.”

“That means he saw Karkaroff,” Elodie guessed.

“He did, and I told him the man was a Death Eater. To be honest, everyone left in Azkaban would gladly gut that guy for the way he sang their names to the Ministry. What I’d forgotten until I spoke to Harry, though, was the fact that it was Moody who captured him in the first place.”

“Moody!” Elodie exclaimed. “Oh dear. That seems like a classic set up for the curse on the position, don’t you think, Remus?”

“It is worrisome, but I wouldn’t look at it with that perspective at all. Albus likely chose Moody  _ because _ Karkaroff was scheduled to be at Hogwarts,” Remus said, setting down his fork. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice and gestured to Sirius. “You told Harry to keep an eye on both men, right? Not just Karkaroff?”

“I did. I told Harry that Moody is, well… he’s moody. That he’s powerful and not to be trifled with, but that the past shows us that something probably  _ will _ happen to him.”

“That’s a bit much for a 14 year old, Sirius,” Remus chided.

“That’s not even the most scary part of our conversation! I told him a bit about how to evade dragons, but the truth is, we don’t know exactly what the Task will involve. Harry says they’ve all got eggs, the dragons.”

“Wait. Mother dragons,  _ with eggs?!” _ Elodie said. Somehow she’d forgotten about this part, but it made sense when she recalled the task. It had something to do with retrieving a golden egg, and what better way to get the dragon to protect it than populate the nest with her real offspring? 

“I’ve more than half a mind to go fly out there and bring him home with me. That  _ Daily Prophet _ article--”

“Sirius, that article was utter hogwash. Please don’t take anything that woman said as truth,” Remus interrupted firmy. 

“That was Rita Skeeter?” Elodie asked. When Remus nodded, she said, “Everything she says is such bullshit that if she told me you were innocent, I’d start to wonder whether you were guilty,” she told Sirius. She wanted to change the subject away from Rita Skeeter, because Sirius’s temper was a bad match with that awful slanderous article. “So Harry knows about the first task having dragons, he saw the other headmasters there, he knows to watch out for Karkaroff and Moody--anything else?”

“I didn’t ask him, but I wondered--does Harry spend the holidays at Hogwarts? Could he visit here for Christmas? Through the Floo at Hogwarts?” Sirius’s eyes begged Remus for an answer in the affirmative. Remus seemed like he was torn, but then his lips moved, and it became clear to Elodie that he was counting.

“No, Sirius, I’m sorry. Christmas is the full moon, this year,” he said. “We can have Harry come some days later, though, as a sort of second Christmas?”

“It  _ is _ the Second Chance house, after all,” Elodie pointed out, grinning. “Christmas at Phoenix House being a ‘second Christmas’ would only be fitting!” Sirius looked so pleased that Elodie felt her heart hurting for him, in a good way.

“Elodie, were you planning to go to see the First Task?” Remus asked her before finishing his last bite.

She nodded. “I’ll also get a chance to talk to Charlie Weasley when I’m there, I hope. I got a short message from him this morning that he’ll have his hands full until they can start to ramp the dragons back down, after the Task.” She played with some food on her plate with her fork, and then decided to ask Remus the question she’d thought of, even if there was a chance he’d see a double meaning there. “You should come. We could arrive strategically separate, and everything, if you’re worried about it.”

“I would like to go, yes,” Remus said, shooting her a side-long glare that prompted her to grin at him. “No need for pretence. We’d be going to support Harry, and Hogwarts.”

“Harry needs it, he says that most of the school sees the other kid as the real Hogwarts Champion,” Sirius said quickly. “I’d almost forgotten. All of his friends seem to be convinced he really did put his name in. He’s pretty down about it.”

“Oh, oh  _ Ron,” _ Elodie said, remembering. “It was hard for him already, having the Boy Who Lived as his best friend. I could see him taking this very badly.”

“There’s no way Albus wouldn’t have protected the cup with some sort of spells or charms,” Remus said. “If he didn’t, Minerva would have.”

“What’s more likely, that there aren’t spells, or that his mates are convinced he figured out how to get past them, though?” Sirius grunted. He swallowed his bite and shoved his chair back, grabbing his plate to set it near the sink. He came back over to the table and leaned over it, resting his weight on his hands. “It was all over his face; the kid’s lonely without Ron. If it weren’t something like dragons, I’d hope he do a bad job on the first task, convince Albus he’s not fit to be in there. That might make his friends feel sorry for him, instead of angry, too.”

“Still dragons, though,” Remus said, sadly.

“Yeah. You should both go.” Sirius’s eyes lit up. “Maybe we can guilt trip Albus into giving us his Pensieve for a couple of days so I can see it for myself through your memories, after.”

8888888888888888

The First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was held after lunch on the twenty-fourth of November, 1994. Elodie chose warm clothing that day, and cast a fire-repelling charm on her trousers, long-sleeved shirt, and toasty jacket. She did plan to speak to Charlie Weasley, after all, and she didn’t know where he’d get a chance to talk to her. It was likely that they would be within proximity of a dragon. 

Even thought it was silly, and almost certainly wouldn’t have made any difference, Elodie went outside, early in the morning, and stood beside where Buckbeak was sleeping. She stood there for a long few minutes, trying to decide what to do, before she went into the shed and started tugging on the super heavy bag of feed that Sirius used to feed the hippogriff.

If Sirius didn’t use magic to move it, then Elodie wasn’t going to. Well, she  _ mostly _ wasn’t going to. She conjured up some gloves to protect her hands as she dragged. It took almost twenty minutes of tugging, swearing, yanking, and deciding whether conjuring a dolly would be cheating, before Elodie got the bag anywhere near him. 

Could she have taken the food scoop by scoop out from the shed? Yes. She didn’t, though, because she had a favor to ask Buckbeak, and she wanted to show that she respected Sirius’s process before she asked.

Buckbeak hadn’t slept through her endeavors, of course. When she was done, and his trough was full, Elodie smiled and turned to start dragging the bag back where it had come from. A small squawking noise and some beak tapping from behind stopped her, and she turned around to see what Buckbeak was doing. He’d stood, and when she turned, he ducked his head in her direction.

“Do you want me to stay, and wait till you’re done eating?” she asked him.

At this question, the hippogriff settled down to eat, and Elodie felt that was answer enough. She didn’t conjure a chair, though. After a few minutes, she decided to tell him what she was up to.

“Sirius is fine, by the way. He’s probably asleep.” The hippogriff paused before a bite, but didn’t look at her. “I’m doing this because I… There’s something happening today at Hogwarts. Where they tied you up, before,” she said. “It’s not safe for Sirius to go, but I worry he might try. I am asking you to stay here, today.”

From his crouched position while he ate, Buckbeak looked up at her.

“Please stay here. For love of Sirius,” Elodie added.

Buckbeak dipped his head, even though he was already crouched very low to the ground. Elodie took this as an answer of sorts, and told him thanks. Then she waited until the bowl was empty and the hippogriff had walked away from it to start dragging the feed bag again.

The fact that she came in from the outside instead of her basement room didn’t go unnoticed by her housemates, but she just said she’d walked around outside for a bit before breakfast, and that she’d taken that opportunity to feed Buckbeak, and that was that.

When Remus came out of his room after lunch, he wasn’t wearing wizard robes as she’d expected. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because his hands went to smooth the knitted sweater he was wearing.

“You never wear robes,” he said to her. “I thought this would help us look less out of place.”

Elodie wanted dearly to say ‘you mean, less mis-matched?’ but she didn’t.

Instead, she said, “Albus says the key words are ‘Tri-Wizard Grounds,’ and we’ll come out through a series of temporary fireplaces they’ve set up near the Champion’s tent. He doesn’t think he’ll have time to speak to us, but he was happy when I told him we were both coming.” Elodie walked over to the fireplace and then looked over her shoulder at Remus. “I think he was surprised that I didn’t tell him we were bringing a large black dog.”

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to Floo when you’re in an Animagus form,” Remus said. “They’ve been very strict in the papers for people planning to attend the Task. Absolutely no Apparating outside the school grounds to walk in. They’re allowing medical exceptions, but the wording was very clear.”

“How amusing would it be if that set up was actually requested by Albus, and is specifically directed at Sirius?” Elodie wondered aloud.

“It would serve him right if it were. He’s adamant that he’s staying here, though?” Remus asked. 

Elodie nodded. Sirius had not seemed as reckless this morning as she’d expected, and despite her plan to meet with Charlie, she’d been prepared to stay home so that Remus could watch, if that proved to be necessary. Sirius promised he had no plans to sneak out there, though, so Elodie didn’t need to stay back to watch him. She had done what she could to ensure Sirius stayed at Phoenix House, that morning, with Buckbeak.

“Shall I catch you, then?” Remus asked playfully as he stepped up to the fireplace.

“I wish you would,” Elodie said when he started spinning. When she ended up in his arms on the other side, he gave no indication that he’d heard her.

8888888888888888

As she stood in the stands and watched the First Task unfold, Elodie was super grateful that Remus was a werewolf. She grabbed his arm in fear or concern so many times she knew she’d have badly bruised a lesser man. By the time they’d watched Harry use his summoning charm for the Firebolt, she had decided a million times over that their magical world was utterly blind to how pants-shittingly terrifying everything was.

At the same time, getting to watch Harry Potter fly was something she would cherish forever. He was fast, yes, but he had the kind of poise that Elodie struggled even in her own head to describe. It was like watching young figure skaters and being able to tell the difference between someone who was good and someone who was really extraordinary. Reading books from Harry’s perspective had helped her understand that his grace was less easy than it was innate. Harry was also so very, very young. After having read the books and watched some of the movies, she’d gotten used to ‘seeing’ Harry Potter as much older in her own mind. Seeing him as still very much a boy made everything he had to go through for the Task so much harder to witness.

When they were all done clapping feverishly for Harry and the other champions, Elodie grabbed Remus’s hand and snuck through the crowd, heading to where she expected that Charles Weasley would probably be. The amount of ceremony that was staged after Harry’s amazing performance made Elodie certain that she wasn’t going to be disturbing the dragon tamer if she asked for a few minutes of his time. When she found the location the where dragons were being housed and cared for, she dropped Remus’s hand, smiling up an apology for her rough treatment of him.

“You are fearless in crowds,” Remus told her kind of breathlessly when they approached the singed enclosure. “I feel like this is an aspect of your personality that is not obvious to the casual observer.”

“I’m sorry, I kind of just grabbed you and ran,” Elodie grinned. “I don’t know how many amateur dragon enthusiasts were in the crowd today. I didn’t want to be leading them all in a caravan with me!”

“That’s wise of you,” Remus said.

Elodie walked up to the temporary cloth fencing and examined it for a long minute, narrowing her eyes. Then, she walked down along it for about two feet, and waved her hand over a join in the outer metal casing. A section bent inward, and she clapped her hands.

“I did not think that would work!” she said. When they had walked through, she waved her hand over the same spot in the opposite direction, and the section repaired itself. “All right, we should walk along the edge for a few paces again, so we don’t signal the break,” she told Remus.

They walked between a few supply tents until they reached a larger tent that had a huge jagged hole in the top of it. The edges of the hole were melted and charred. A young man with rust colored hair was leaning against the thick canvas of the tent, beside the entrance. He had one foot on the ground, and one flush with the tent, his arms crossed, his head back, as if he were relaxing. The smell of burned hair, singed tent, and many other acrid scents in the area filled Elodie with a primal sort of dread, and a glance over at Remus told her he felt the same way. He’d started to hold his arm out as if guiding and protecting her, his hand hovering at the small of her back.

On a whim, Elodie called out, “Charlie?” and the leaning man straightened, holding a hand up to block the setting sun as he tried to see who had called his name. When he saw them coming closer, his face broke out in a brilliant smile, and Elodie couldn’t help smiling back. There was something so carefree and happy about the picture he presented, standing in what was essentially a campground wrecked by multiple angry female dragons. As they approached, Elodie saw that his face was even a little touched by soot, but his teeth were a bright white.

“Well, hello,” he said warmly. “Can’t say that I remember you, but I ought to, I think.”

Elodie blushed, despite herself. He sounded like he knew exactly what he was implying, and thought of it as a compliment rather than anything to be ashamed of. She felt Remus’s hand at her back; it felt like he was also reacting to the implications in the other man’s voice.

“Oh, no, we haven’t met before,” Elodie said, for once glad for the embarrassment in her voice, given the chance it had of reassuring Remus’s protective instincts. “I’m Elodie Merriman, the woman from the letter.”

“Ahh, yes,” Charlie said. “Forgive me--Dragon Tamer is a popular profession. I get a lot of people who want to claim an association.”

Something told Elodie it wasn’t just the proximity to dragons that had people claiming an association with Charlie Weasley. She shook his proffered hand and turned to Remus.

“This is my friend Remus Lupin. Remus, I think I can safely say this is Charlie Weasley,” Elodie said, smiling at the two men.

“You can indeed! It’s nice to meet you, Lupin--your name sounds very familiar, come to think of it. Were you a professor at Hogwarts last year, by chance?”

“Yes, Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Remus confirmed after shaking Charlie’s hand.

“Well I’m glad to meet you, then, because my four brothers you had as pupils told me about how much they enjoyed your class, and I’d wager a few galleons that none of them have spoken to you about it, selfish clods that they are,” Charlie said, smiling. 

“That is very kind of you to say, thank you,” Remus said. He looked very pleased to hear this. Then, Remus turned toward her. “Elodie, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to head back?”

She knew that Sirius was probably dying to hear about the Task, so she nodded.

“You’ll be good to find your way back alone?” he asked her, looking around at the debris of burnt tent and the few odd chain links as wide as her wrists.

“I’d be happy to escort her back through this whole lot of nonsense to the Floos, when we’re done with our chat,” Charlie said.

Remus looked at Elodie before he turned toward Charlie to answer that. “That’ll be up to her, I imagine,” he said in an odd voice. He sounded almost amused, as if he’d been initially concerned about the idea that she’d be spending time with a dragon tamer right up until Charlie implied she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Thank you both,” Elodie said, holding back the eye roll.

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie said, and Remus slid his hands into his pockets and tipped his head forward at her before turning to leave. He looked more relaxed, now, and she really wondered if he’d felt threatened at all initially. She gave a mental shrug and turned to smile at the second oldest Weasley son.

“I have a confession to make to you,” Charlie said, scratching his shoulder.

“Oh?” she said, walking over to lean against one of the huge pillars of rock that held the ropes for the tent they were standing beside.

“Yeah,” he answered. He smiled kind of sheepishly and moved to stand across from her, his stance wide but relaxed. “My time at Hogwarts was pretty mundane. I mostly wanted to see who was asking questions. I’m a bit protective of my family.”

Elodie couldn’t help but smile at him again. His attitude seemed to be that he was ashamed to have deceived her, but that he wasn’t sorry. It was honestly endearing. She could see a lot of Molly in him.

“I completely understand that,” she said. “I can explain my reasoning, if you like?”

“I would appreciate that.” Again, she got the sense that he was an affable person with steel resoluteness underneath. It was a fascinating combination.

“Well, I’m American,” she said, hating her own propensity for starting her stories in the strangest of ways. She paused, looking for the most comprehensible way of explaining herself, and Charlie’s lips quirked up into a smile. “When I first got to the UK I started to read up on the things that I had missed, history-wise, when it came to Wizarding Britain. I started reading a lot about the person a good friend of mine refers to as ‘Lord Git.’”

Charlie laughed. “I’m with you so far.”

“Good. Well, you saw I’m friends with Remus, and he was close friends with Harry Potter’s parents.” Charlie nodded, making a sad face of understanding, and she continued on with her story. “You say you’re protective of your family. Well, I’m protective of Remus, to a certain extent. He cares about Harry, and the more I read about the circumstances surrounding Harry’s parents’ death, the more I started to worry about the way things have been reported to be happening around Hogwarts over the last few years. Like I said, I’m an outsider, and I started to wonder if that was something that might end up being a benefit.”

“That whole bit about slowly boiling frogs?” Charlie asked, frowning.

“Perhaps better phrased as it being harder to see a pattern if you’re  _ inside _ the pattern, yeah,” Elodie said. She didn’t want to force a dragon tamer to have to picture cruelty to animals, after all. “So I tried to think of how to illustrate the pattern, and I realized that you and your brothers’ time at Hogwarts span the time from right after Lord Git was defeated, to now.”

“Right,” Charlie said, running a hand through his red hair. “Bill started the year after, then me a couple of years later, and so on. So you wrote us to ask about it.”

“I spoke to your mother first, figuring that she wouldn’t want to hear from multiple sons about a woman sending unsolicited letters.” Elodie laughed. “Looks like I should have included you in that first conversation?”

“Nah, I’m pretty laid back, in the end,” Charlie told her. 

She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t object to his self-characterization. Elodie thought he was likely to be quite fierce if he didn’t like her reasons, but so far, she was doing all right. 

“So, Bill told you…”

“--that he had a lovely time, made quite a few friends, and never heard much against his Muggle born friends,” she confirmed. “Percy’s written back, as well. His very polite letter was interesting. He has noticed some differences, not sure if they’ve been gradual, especially the year before last. He says that this past year as Head Boy has been the most difficult.”

“I’m afraid Bill may have made it look easy,” Charlie said, offering a wry smile. “I came close to being chosen, I think, but I was happy with Quidditch Captain. Besides, I was too social to want to have a room by myself, away from the tower.”

“That’s still a lot to live up to!” Elodie said. Charlie’s smile turned more broad in the face of her incredulity. “Well, shit,” Elodie let slip. “No pressure, Fred and George!”

She’d put her hand over her eyes at the thought of one of the prankster twins earning the accolade of Head Boy somehow, and a loud single clap noise had her look up in shock. Charlie had both hands clasped together, and was doubled over in laughter.

“Oh, your  _ face!” _ he gasped out. “You’re right, though. Poor mum.”

“I feel like the best word I could use in this situation is: ‘ _ anyway,’” _ Elodie said, trying to get herself back on track. “Right, I was talking about Percy. He says that he’s been giving more and more detentions and taking House points, almost all to the Slytherins.”

Elodie happened to be looking at Charlie’s freckled face when she said this, and she watched a look of shock replace the look of amusement he’d been wearing.

“What? No, that’s--” Charlie rubbed a hand along the stubble on his face. “That’s wrong, that is.”

Elodie was convinced, but she pushed back a little anyway. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Simple,” Charlie said, resuming his wide-legged stance, his big hands moving along with his words to illustrate his point. “So, you’ve got the four houses, and for the most part they’re pretty equal. I can say that, even if I wasn’t Head Boy,” he said, flashing her a brilliant, nearly heart-stopping grin. “That’s academics, that’s sports, all the important stuff. Then, there’s the House Cup. There, the Gryffindors, well… we have a bit of a disadvantage. You’re saying Percy’s punishing mostly Slytherins? That doesn’t track, Elodie. It’s  _ always _ the Gryffindors. My best friend at school, he’s Muggle born, right? He used to joke that it was our handicap. Like that game, where the best players start out at a disadvantage.”

“Okay, I’m following you that it’s there, but…” Elodie interrupted, and Charlie nodded.

“It’s the recklessness. The lack of thought to the consequences. The Slytherins, they just flat out know better, yeah? And the Ravenclaws tend to be so clever in their pranks and things that the teachers don’t ever suspect them anyway, or they can’t figure out how to punish them for it in the first place. Hufflepuffs have that solidarity thing going on, but Gryffindors? We’re just well and truly fucked, when it comes to House points and detentions. We always are.”

“Isn’t that a bit simplistic?” she said.

“Sure,” Charlie said, biting a piece of dead skin off of the edge of a scratch on his wrist. “But that’s the status quo. If that’s  _ not _ what’s happening, then there’s something artificially wrong with Slytherin House.”

“Wow,” Elodie said. She felt a rush of understanding that was almost overwhelming. There it was, her conclusions, clear as the eye could see. Something measurable was happening, and Charlie’s so-called mundane experience at Hogwarts was basically the proof. “Charlie, I think you’ve just made the picture clear, I’m sorry to say.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he told her seriously. “Even if you don’t  _ like _ the picture, it’s easier to put the puzzle pieces together if you’ve got it, right?”

Elodie looked up at the sky above them, which was darkening, since the sun was just about fully set, to the west. Somewhere out there was Voldemort and his various Death Eaters, knowing full well that they had someone safely ensconced in the staff at Hogwarts.

“Right,” she finally said. She took a deep breath. “Time to move past information gathering.”

“Nah, that’s ongoing,” Charlie told her. “You’d think we knew everything about dragons, what with their being around for so long, right? Not a chance. Always learning something new. It’s what makes things exciting!” He looked around the tent area for a few seconds, held up a hand for her to wait, and jogged into the dark tent for a few minutes. When he came out, he had a thin towel around his neck, and he gestured for her to follow him. “Let’s head out, I don’t know how long they’ve got the temp Floos up, and I didn’t think of that when we were talking.”

“No worries,” Elodie told him, and she moved to catch up with him, as he’d already started confidently weaving his way through the various tents and chunks of tents that littered the ground in their area. When they got to where the guest Floo set up had been, Elodie saw that Charlie was right. They were already torn down.

“Well, we’ve got a couple of options,” Charlie said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with her as they stared at the trampled grass and dirt where the Floo tent had stood. “One, I walk you up to the castle, and you make nice with one of your friends on staff, because I know you haven’t said so, but you look like you’d have friends on staff. I just have that feeling,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. She turned to smile at him and nod. “Another option is I can fly you back, if you have your bearings from mid-air, which hardly anyone does, but! I’d give it a shot.”

Elodie was still smiling at him when he’d suggested this option, and he winked at her so obviously that she blushed despite herself. 

“No, I have a pet hippogriff at home,” she told him. “He might get jealous. Smell the scent of a rival, you know.”

At this, Charlie turned to face her, and he gave her a shrewd look that said she might have implied more than she’d originally intended. “Fair enough,” he said. “Usually I toss in a comment about riding dragons being a unique experience, but I honestly feel like you’d see through that one.”

“Wow,” Elodie said, echoing her earlier self, but for a different reason. “That’s a line so bad it comes out the other side as good again.”

Charlie reached out a hand and placed it heavily on her shoulder as he leaned over and laughed and laughed. When he lifted his head again, he shifted his weight to put another hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for that. A man needs a reality check every once in a while.”

“I’m glad to help,” she said, patting his arm reassuringly.

“Well, this isn’t morphing into a Floo network anytime soon, so let’s head up to the castle,” Charlie said. He reached up, taking her hand and maneuvering her around so that when he was done, her arm was tucked against his as he led her up the walkway toward Hogwarts.

Elodie decided that Charlie Weasley might just be her favorite Weasley brother. Not that she’d ever, ever tell him, of course. His ego was just fine as it was.


	26. Daring, Nerve, and Chivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie says goodbye to Charlie, heads home, and decides to get serious about saving Alastor Moody. She enlists Sirius's help with part of her future plans, and then he guesses the truth about a recipe she's deciding whether or not to try.

When Elodie and Charlie got up to the front door, she hesitated to try to open it, suddenly feeling that she’d completely overstayed her welcome, and then some. Charlie didn’t have any such qualms, however. He walked up and hauled on the door, pulling it open wide and gesturing for her to step inside. After she did, though, he didn’t follow her.

Elodie turned around and looked at him, confused.

“I’ve got more to clean up, yet,” he explained. “I’ll be back for Christmas this year, though. I think. Mum’s put out that I’ve come home but not  _ home; _ she’ll keep sending letters ‘till I get so much shit from the people I work with that I’ll have to visit. I learned my lesson last time.”

“I can absolutely see Molly doing that,” she said.

Suddenly, Charlie’s face turned bright red, and she almost reached out to see what was wrong, but he waved her off.

“I’m-- I’m  _ not,  _ rather, trying to hit on you. I just realized that might have--” he stopped, shut his eyes for a second, then opened them and grinned at her with that smile that could charm anyone. “I liked our chat. I wouldn’t mind talking about something else than my brothers, next time. Except everything I say sounds like I’m chatting you up!” he groaned in a long-suffering, good-natured way. “See you around?”

“I’d love that,” Elodie said, punching his shoulder playfully. “And you’re right, I know a couple of people in there. I’ll either find one of them or be rescued by a First Year shivering in a corner somewhere tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect,” Charlie said. Elodie waved at him as the door shut between them.

Surprisingly, despite it feeling late in the day, it wasn’t late enough that there weren’t students on their way to various places, and so Elodie didn’t feel quite so out of place as she walked to Albus’s office. For a horrible second, she thought she didn’t know what his password was, but she remembered it right before her mental ‘you’ve been standing here too long, you look like an utter idiot’ alarm went off.

The office was empty, as she’d suspected it would be. All she needed to do was toss in a pinch of Floo Powder and she’d be on her way home… and yet.

Elodie looked around at the portraits of previous headmasters and saw that all of them--even Phineas, were sleeping. She then looked at the various bookshelves and things shelves and stuff shelves until she saw the Sorting Hat resting on a globe-like structure that didn’t look like Earth, which was odd. Without touching the Hat, Elodie walked all the way around it, admiring the depth of the fabric, the way the creases and stitching made it look so alive.

“You’re liable to get dizzy, going around and around like that,” the Hat said.

“Oh, my goodness gracious!” Elodie said as she jumped back. She was deeply grateful that her potty mouth hadn’t arrived on schedule, this once. 

“Well, are you going to put me on, or not?” it said next.

“Is that even allowed?” she asked, surprised.

“I have more autonomy than most Hats. Do you suppose I sleep in between the Sorting Ceremonies?”

Elodie felt like she must have fallen under some sort of spell near the dragon tents, and was currently being rushed to St. Mungo’s. She decided to go with the flow anyway.

“I suppose you do have to write the amazing sorting songs every year,” she mused. “Can adults even  _ be _ sorted?”

“If they weren’t sorted as children, that would be the only way, would it not?”

Elodie stretched up on her tiptoes to look the Hat in its ‘face.’ “You’re going to keep pestering me until I do it, aren’t you?”

“I am,” said the Hat.

“All right, then,” Elodie said. She walked around to the back of the Hat and reached up, lifting it carefully before she set it down on her own head.

_ Well, then. This is very, very interesting. All the signs for Hufflepuff--stalwart loyalty, dedication to one’s friends, a strong sense of right and wrong. And yet… _

“And yet?” Elodie voiced aloud. She felt that the Hat would probably be able to communicate with her via her own thoughts, but it just felt wrong to assume. The Hat felt oddly lively as it spoke, and she remembered the way the movies had shown it as becoming animated the instant it was placed on a child’s head.

_ And yet you are so clearly a reckless, devoted friend, willing to risk life and limb to save others. Gambling your lifespan on a werewolf, a possible future in Azkaban for an accused murderer, and now, a plan to rescue a captive Auror? _

“If you reveal my friend’s location, I will come back and set you on  _ fire. _ I’ve done it before, you know. This time I’ll do it without the imperturbable,” Elodie threatened.

_ This is a daunting task. If I had encountered you as an eleven year-old, my choice would have been clearer. _

“But would it have been correct?” she asked.

There was a long pause.

_ The choice today is clear. There’s no doubt you’re a Gryffindor. _

Elodie frowned slightly.

_ Boring! You think Gryffindor is boring?! _

“Well, no,” Elodie protested. “It’s just that I know so many other Gryffindors-- I wanted to mix it up, a little.”

_ Only a true Gryffindor would want to stand out so much they’d reject their own House in the process! You’re clearly a-- _

“GRYFFINDOR!” pronounced the Hat, loudly and clearly.

“I am completely unsurprised, my dear,” Albus said. Elodie looked over in the direction of his voice and saw that he had probably just come up the stairs. 

“Sir, the Hat reads minds,” Elodie said, concerned about Sirius. “It spoke about hiding a fugitive.”

Albus stepped closer and reached up, lifting the Sorting Hat from her head. He let it slide onto one hand, and positioned it so that he could look the Hat in its ‘face.’

“Presumably if the Hat could see who you are hiding, it can also see  _ why,” _ he said mildly. “There would be no need to meddle in the lives of former students, to any extent.” The Hat, for its part, seemed through with talking, and indeed seemed as inanimate and lifeless as it had when Elodie had found it.

She did get a sense that Albus’s comment, though said in a bland way, could be construed as a veiled threat, though, and when Dumbledore placed the Hat on a high shelf, far out of her own reach and probably that of most visitors, she was mollified.

“I presume you are seeking a Floo with which to travel home?” Albus said, next.

“Yes, I was talking with Charlie Weasley and the time got away from us, I think,” she said. “I meant to ask, were you going to schedule an Order meeting before Christmas?”

“Yes, in December, I think. Are you volunteering as a host, then?” Albus asked, settling in at his desk.

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that, but, I can’t think why not. That means everyone can participate, after all,” Elodie answered, pleased. “I’ll make sure that’s okay with my housemates first, of course.”

“Of course,” Albus nodded pleasantly. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he added, “Are you going to tell them about your experience with the Sorting Hat tonight?”

“I’m not great at keeping things secret, honestly,” Elodie said, ignoring how disingenuous her statement felt to say. “But I’ll try to break it to them gently.”

Albus laughed, and Elodie enjoyed the moment of grinning joy they shared before she raised her hand to grab the Floo powder. Then, she realized that she’d be able to tell Albus about them naming the cottage--if, as she expected, the name worked, that was. It was definitely worth the try, though. 

“Did I tell you we named the house we’re sharing, finally?” she asked Albus as she grabbed a handful of the Floo powder. When he shook his head, she said, “I think you’ll like it.” Then, she tossed the powder in and said “Phoenix House” in a loud voice, stepping through and hoping.

The familiar twirl of Floo travel took her home, and Elodie smiled the whole way for the first time, hoping that Albus had enjoyed the tribute to Fawkes.

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When Elodie came home she was surprised to see that Remus and Sirius weren’t in the living room, but she heard their voices echoing through the hallway to the bedrooms. She cast a disillusionment charm on herself to go peek at what they were doing, unwilling to interrupt for mere curiosity. When she looked in on them, they were both stretched out on Sirius’s huge bed. Remus was propped up on the carved headboard, his hands moving in intricate movements that were describing Viktor Krum’s actions during the First Task. Sirius was lying perpendicular to Remus, on his side, facing away from Elodie, but she felt like she could imagine what his face looked like. As she watched, Remus explained how Krum had used a curse to damage his dragon’s eyesight, and the dragon trampled some of her own eggs. Sirius’s hands flew up, and Elodie was sure this was in distress about the dragon, but then she heard Sirius say that he was happy because this meant Harry had less competition! 

She snuck away before her surprised laugh could be caught by the two men. Sirius could be so amusing in his partisanship, sometimes. As Elodie walked down to her own bedroom, she remembered she’d meant to ask Charlie about Krum’s dragon, the Chinese Fireball. Her conversation with the second oldest Weasley son had not only been informative, but he had been a fun person to talk to. Part of that was just from how much Elodie already knew about both his brothers, and life at Hogwarts, which were essentially stolen knowledge, really, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about that. The whole outsider thing would help her in her self-appointed task to save Alastor Moody, after all. Someone who genuinely knew about these things from having lived alongside the Weasleys at school would have been affected by the same blindness as most of the adults involved.

Elodie turned off her light and cast  _ Lumos, _ turning her wand over and over in her hands as she thought about what she’d learned from Charlie. She’d hated to have to tell him that his information had proved her correct in her worries, but his response was important, too. She  _ did _ have a better picture of what was happening, thanks to his comment about Slytherins and Gryffindors. Right now it felt like that picture was the image of Cedric Diggory lying dead on the ground, the prize for the Tournament in his young, cold hand. Elodie didn’t intend to let that happen.

In her mind, Elodie could see that picture as a puzzle, with each action taken by the people involved causing the number of pieces to multiply. There were quite a few people whose choices could complicate the puzzle, she knew. The thing was, puzzles were planned out in advance. The kind of large company that made puzzles often had a few different ‘puzzle maps’ designed, and they’d use them for more than one product. A company might have hundreds of designs with hundreds of variations, 500 piece, 1,000 piece, 3,000 piece puzzles, and so on. They didn’t have that many different puzzle maps, though, that would be a waste of engineering time.

Elodie sat up. She’d seen pictures before of someone who had gone and bought multiple puzzles from a same company, all the same solve size, 5,000 pieces. The person had then put the puzzles together cross-ways, using two or three different boxes. One puzzle was a train, another of a champion horse, a third of a sunset. The person then put the puzzle together so that the train had the back end of a horse, as it rode (or chugged) off into the sunset. The after images were striking, all the more so because the pieces fit together perfectly, as if they’d been made to. They had been, of course, because the puzzles were each of the same puzzle map.

Could Elodie change things here in that same sort of way? Could she shift things around so that the puzzle of how to save Moody and Cedric kept the same map of the fourth book,  _ Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? _ She couldn’t simply sit down and rewrite it, of course, but she might be able to affect change within the story without destroying it completely. Unveiling an esteemed professor at Hogwarts as a secret Death Eater in disguise would no doubt be a thrilling aspect to the fourth book, after all. There was the matter of the fake Moody helping Harry cheat, but she did have Sirius Black on her side, and Sirius was already sending letters to Harry, as well as speaking to him via the Floo network.

Elodie hopped out of bed, too excited to sleep. She had already known she wanted to find a way to save Moody, but she hadn’t really thought about it as seriously as she was doing right now. She always found it easier to think when she had a framework to use, and this construct of a puzzle with multiple solutions was helping immensely. She needed to try to sleep now, but tomorrow, Elodie told herself, she would start looking for the right way to put these various possibilities together to make the best possible result. Maybe she could find a solution more beautiful.

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Though she did sleep, Elodie woke early on the morning of the twenty-fifth of November. Rather than stay in the basement, she took her notebooks and quills upstairs and transfigured the end-table that usually sat beside her side of the couch into a desk that fit at just the right height as she sat in her spot. Her hair was twisted up into a bun, and she knew she’d have to wash it, given how many times she had absently stuck a quill in there with the ink still wet. She had a couple of different lists, and the one with the kind of information she didn’t want Remus or Sirius to read was spelled so that only she could read it.

She hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake at six on a Tuesday, of course, but she was surprised when both men came out of Sirius’s room sometime after  _ nine. _ They must have fallen asleep on the bed while Remus detailed everything that had happened at the Task. Remus headed into the bathroom, and Sirius wandered out to the living room, yawning and stretching.

“I assume you got a thorough recap?” Elodie asked, setting a notebook overtop of her secret notes. 

Sirius flopped onto the couch and smiled. “Remus told me everything, probably twice. Harry was perfect!”

“He definitely was. The idea of summoning his broom was brilliant, I’m glad he was able to do that,” Elodie said. Right when she was done speaking, Sirius’s stomach growled audibly, and they both laughed. “Shoo! Go eat, I’ll talk to you after,” Elodie told Sirius.

As he ate, she organized her lists and plans. By the time Remus came out of the shower, her makeshift desk area was much neater.

“You’re looking studious this morning,” Remus remarked.

“And you look like you should take a nap,” she teased. “I assume you were up late re-enacting everything with conjured figurines and real fire?”

“I didn’t quite go that far,” Remus said, brushing his hair back from his eyes. “We did have a nice long talk after the recap, though.” He sighed a happy sigh, pausing by her desk. “That was a long time coming.”

“I have only had a ‘fall asleep after talking for hours’ friend once in my life, and it was really wonderful,” Elodie told him. “I’m happy for you.”

“He was one of those  _ before _ Azkaban,” Remus said. “Oddly, I have Peter to thank for that. If he hadn’t been in that paper with the Weasleys, Sirius wouldn’t have seen it and escaped.” He tapped her desk with his fingers almost absently as he stood there, his eyes far away as he looked out the big window behind her. “That’s going to take a while to reconcile.”

She stayed quiet, unwilling to disturb whatever thoughts he was having in that moment, and after a long minute, he smiled thinly and headed for the kitchen. Elodie closed her eyes and willed her impulsive desire to run after him and hug him tightly to dissipate. She scooted back from the desk she’d conjured to curl her legs up on the couch and gather her thoughts, and in the process, she hit her foot against her ‘TOAm.’ There was a bright red bookmark sticking out from the section where the biscuit recipe was, and she dragged the heavy thing up onto her lap to look at it yet again. She wanted to try to make them, but she knew that if she was looking to use it as any kind of persuasive tool, it would be like asking Michael Jordan to come play hoops at Gym class. Massive, crazy overkill.

“Hey, I’m about to head out for groceries,” Remus said, again stopping to tap against her conjured desk. “Do you have any requests?”

“Did you grab my list from the fridge?” Elodie asked instinctively, and she looked up and caught Remus’s little eye roll as he answered her.

“Yes, of course I did, I just thought I’d check?” he said, his voice a mixture of affection, exasperation, and a question. She wished she could reach her hand out and hold his and ask him to forgive her for being so predictable, but she knew she’d just chase away the expression entirely if she did. At that moment, she felt like she’d do  _ anything _ if she could just persuade him that she really did love him.

“Wait--just one sec, okay?” she said, grabbing a sheet of Muggle paper and a quill. Then, she laid the paper down opposite the ingredients list for the biscuit recipe and quickly jotted down the ingredients she knew they didn’t have at the house. Her adrenaline was pumping, and given that the full moon was in a few days, she knew he could probably tell, but she didn’t care, not today. “All right. Here,” she said, handing him the paper.

“That’s… at the back of that book,” Remus said hesitantly.

Elodie looked up at him and raised an expressive eyebrow. “And?”

“--and are you sure you’re up for whatever it makes? Is it going to explode the kitchen? In my experience, the most complicated stuff is at the back of those kinds of books.”

“Oh, Remus,” Elodie said, her voice full of amusement and warm affection. “No, it’s not going to explode the kitchen. I appreciate your concern. It’s a recipe for cookies, or as you call them, biscuits. They’re even chocolate flavored. I hope you’ll like them. I hope they make you very, very happy,” she said, grinning up at him with as innocent an expression as she could manage.

“All you’re doing is making me more and more suspicious, you know,” Remus said, narrowing his eyes in mock mistrust. “Why are they in a potions book?”

“They use a potion in the recipe, that’s all. Look,” Elodie said, flipping ten or twenty pages earlier and holding up the book with a groan. “Shepherd’s Pie with a dash of Calming Draught. Designed to be made for bereaved families, with permission, of course. I wouldn’t condone dosing someone without their knowing. There’s even some in here for how to trick kids into taking their medicine.”

“I’m still dubious. What potion is in the biscuits you’re planning to make?” Remus asked. Elodie facepalmed. The potion involved was Fidelity, but it wasn’t designed to be used the way the Shepherd’s Pie recipe was. “What?” Remus asked, when he saw her reaction.

“The potion is kind of, like, emotional flavoring, in this thing? It’s complicated. It’s not really relevant to the fact that they’re supposed to be just really delicious chocolate cakey biscuits,” she told him, wincing a bit at her mistake in making everything so mysterious. “It’s almost incidental to the fact that it’s from this fancy book, really.”

“I’m going to allow myself to be convinced, and trust you,” Remus said, despite how unconvinced he actually sounded.

“I wouldn’t make them if I didn’t think you’d like the result,” Elodie said, biting her lip. “The truth is, they’re probably too hard for me anyway, and they disintegrate if you do it wrong, so it’s just money in the bin, most likely.”

“Now that, I don’t believe,” Remus said firmly. “If you try to make it, you’ll get it right. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Elodie said, blushing a bit.  _ If he knew exactly what this recipe was, would he still be so confident? _ She had absolutely no idea.

“What are you up to?” Sirius asked her in a sing-song voice, the words almost obscured by the roaring of the Floo as Remus headed out.

“That depends, do you mean all my plans at the desk, or my ridiculousness with this book recipe?” she said, resisting the urge to hide her face.

“Both. But I’ll go with the lists, first, because you look like the recipe thing is something you don’t want to talk about, and I might trick you into telling me something about it if you’re relaxed from the other stuff,” Sirius said, grinning at her.

“You’re not afraid to tell me your nefarious plans ahead of time?” she teased.

“You’ll forget,” Sirius said with utter confidence. He settled into the couch beside her. “So, what’s with the desk and the list of lists?”

“I’m making plans,” she said, grabbing one of the pages of parchment. “That reminds me, because you’re part of my plans: I was going to ask you something.”

“I’d be delighted to be part of your plans, Ellie,” Sirius said. His tone was low and serious, unlike how she might have expected him to say something like that, all insincere flattery and outrageous behavior. The tone shift threw her for a loop, but she avoided his direct gaze and lifted up the parchment as though she were reading from it, even though she wasn’t, really.

“How would you feel about passing messages to Harry for me, or probably more accurately, via me from Albus?” she asked, leaning her head to the side to catch a glimpse of his face from behind her page.

“That would depend, I’m not passing propaganda,” Sirius said, frowning.

“Oh, wow, didn’t think of that. No, not at all,” Elodie said, setting her page down in her lap. “This is more--well, it’s my theory that Albus is planning to protect Harry by evening the playing field, but I can’t really prove that right now. I do think there’s a reason he was able to see the dragons before the Task.”

“Too bad it wasn’t just Harry,” Sirius said.

“I hate the whole cheating thing, but it’s my best idea right now,” Elodie said, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. In reality, she was prepping Sirius for the chance that she could pass information to him  _ herself, _ if she ended up succeeding in saving Moody. In her mind, the main reason the man was trapped for so much of  _ Goblet of Fire _ was that for the book to work, Harry needed the information Crouch Jr. was willing to give him. With Moody rescued, Harry was without that safety net--but Elodie knew some of what he might need to be told. Not only that, but she had Sirius to pass it along, and Albus as plausible deniability as to why she knew those things in the first place.

Provided she remembered them, of course. Elodie was willing to cross that bridge when she came to it, however.

It was time to close the loop she’d created. “I need you to promise me you won’t mention this to Albus, though, okay?” she asked. “I don’t think he has an innate sense of fairness--” At this, Sirius snorted derisively. “I hear you on that. But, yeah, I can’t guarantee he’ll feel he can still offer the information if we’re both really obvious about wanting it. I’m honestly going by tiny scraps of guesses, at this point.”

“Anything I can do to help Harry, I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Sirius promised.

“You need to add an addendum to that about keeping yourself safe, you know. Harry would be completely devastated if something were to happen to you while you were trying to help him, you know that, don’t you?” Elodie looked at Sirius and begged him with her eyes to listen, truly  _ listen _ to what she’d just said. He nodded, but she didn’t think she’d gotten through, not really, but now was not the time.

“So you said you had plans, plural?”

“Yeah, the other one is a bit less cut and dried, though,” Elodie said. “I’m not from around here, but I assume that even when you attended Hogwarts, you had rotating Defense Against the Dark Arts professors?”

“We did,” Sirius confirmed. “I want to make a twirling joke, but you look so adorably serious about all of this. So I want credit for not saying it,” he added.

“Duly noted,” Elodie said, lifting her paper back up to hide her face from him as an arbitrary punishment. “So my second plan is to try to figure out what’s going to happen with Moody, before it happens. Because I’m 98% sure something is going to happen.”

“It’s Moody, so who could even tell? This is a losing proposition, Elodie,” Sirius said, launching himself to a standing position. “Want any tea?”

“Water, I think,” Elodie said, shuffling papers around to look for a particular one. “I’m really bad at getting tea stains back out with charms.”

“You could charm the paper to repel tea instead?” Sirius suggested gently. She looked up at him to see him holding back a laugh. “You are so half-Muggle at the strangest times, you know,” he told her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She stuck her tongue out at his back while he walked into the kitchen. She needed to use the bathroom, but she did not trust Sirius not to poke around, so she took her bookmark out of her book and stuck it in some other random recipe page just in case. Then she headed to the bathroom.

When she came back, as she’d predicted, Sirius had her  _ Potions to Enchant, Ensnare, and Enthrall the Wyrd _ book.

“Before you ask, I randomly stuck my bookmark into a page without looking, because I knew you were an unrepentant snoop,” Elodie told Sirius, smacking him gently on the back of his head as she walked past.

“Mmm, love taps,” Sirius said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in mock ecstasy.

“Like I believe you’re the kind of guy who goes in for that sort of thing,” Elodie said, shaking her head at him.

“I’d be happy to show you what I  _ am _ into,” Sirius responded. It was like he had those kinds of replies queued up in his head, just waiting for the off chance he could unload them on her, she thought.  _ Git, _ she thought to herself, mostly with affection. Mostly.

“Do you have an off button for the flirting, or has it gotten you in trouble in the past--wait,” Elodie stopped herself, laughing.  _ “Of COURSE _ it’s gotten you in trouble, what am I even asking!?”

“There’s an off button,” Sirius said, turning his body to sit cross-legged across from her on the couch. “I’ll stop, if you need me to.”

He sounded so sincere that she instantly regretted teasing him over it, because she genuinely didn’t mind. As a reply, she scooted over on the couch so she was sitting beside him, and then she leaned over to kiss his shoulder.

“You don’t have to stop,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to lose confidence when you’re constantly shot down.”

At that, Sirius laughed, a hearty, deep guffaw that she could feel through the places her legs brushed against his, somehow. 

“As long as you feel wanted, I’m happy,” he said then, and her stomach did a major flip flop in hearing that. 

She didn’t dare make eye contact, and instead, she said, rather nervously, “Well. I’m going to move back over there, but thank you, I think.” She knew she was blushing, and she was definitely massively distracted, so when Sirius asked his next question, she looked up at him with such a guilty expression that she knew he had to know he’d been right.

“So, your recipe, is it Gâteaufidél?”

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That night, Elodie lay in bed and thought about the recipe she wanted to make. Gâteaufidél was probably the pinnacle of baking with potions, and it certainly wasn’t usually made by unmarried women! Made the right way, Gâteaufidél was only able to be touched by the baker and the person she loved, the person she’d been thinking of and attuning the recipe to, when she baked it. If touched by anyone else, the bunny shaped cookie would hop away, and then disintegrate.

Traditionally, Gâteaufidél was something that Pureblood families saw as a status symbol. In modern times, it was usually a recipe given to loved ones on the occasion of an important anniversary or event. There was even an ornate glass and metal biscuit jar that was sold to keep them in, which was the other surprising thing about the recipe that Elodie had discovered. The recipe itself made between twenty-four to twenty-eight individual cookies, and they weren’t generally made to actually  _ eat.  _ They were usually made to display, instead. That’s what the various books she’d read about it in had made clear. One made Gâteaufidél to display the prowess and devotion of the baker. There was a stasis charm specifically for Gâteaufidél.

The recipe itself was ancient, with a few tweaks to the look and the behavior that were added a few hundred years after its creation. It was at first a fidelity test, and it was used as one by at least one magical dynasty that had ruled over ancient Europe. Every woman who was born to or married into that family had been trained as Potions Masters so that they could prove their love and loyalty to their husbands. Elodie found it very difficult to believe that  _ every _ one of them had been as successful as the history books claimed them to be. She wondered how they’d managed to get around the strictures of the potion, and figured one or two found a woman who genuinely loved the king and taught them to create it. Some slight of hand and possibly even a mimic recipe might have been involved.

Elodie didn’t want to fake it though. She wanted to succeed.

If she could actually make it properly, it would be the perfect thing to persuade Remus that she really truly did love him, like she said she did. If she succeeded, the cakey cookie that would result would be just for Remus, no one else. If anyone but Elodie or Remus touched it, it would hop away before it disintegrated into dust. That was the beauty of Gâteaufidél. The baker had to already have an affinity for potions, more specifically the ability to attune oneself to the molecules of a potion. By drinking half of a potion and casting a specific spell, a Potion Master could attune their emotions to the half of the potion that was left, and that remaining attuned potion could be used in recipes and other potions. It was difficult to do, and the fact that Mellie held the title of Potions Master meant that she had succeeded in doing it.

Elodie had actually gotten Slughorn to teach her a bit about attunement on one of the days before her splinching. He’d taught her a potion specifically designed to test attunement, thinking that once she’d gotten farther along in her potions re-education, she’d want to pick it up again. She was sure he’d been thinking of months down the road, but she wasn’t. She was going to try attunement tomorrow. It was the full moon, so she wouldn’t be able to spend the entire day down there, not if that would make Remus uncomfortable. 

The full moon also meant she had the chance to see Moony.

Elodie knew she needed to speak to him, and not just because she was making plans that involved persuading Remus himself that she loved him truthfully. She wanted to know what Moony thought their relationship was, whether he had any insight into what  _ Remus _ thought their relationship was. Elodie didn’t often allow herself to examine how she felt about Moony as a separate and apart entity from Remus the man, but tonight she pushed herself to think about that. 

Moony was direct, where Remus would prevaricate. Moony also seemed to have an instinct for how to cut directly down to whatever it was that she most needed, but she realized in the calm of the night that this had more to do with how upset she’d been the few times she’d directly interacted with him. Elodie saw Moony as the representation of Remus’s animal desires, but that was a naive and dangerous way to see him, she knew. As long as what she wanted aligned with Moony, she would feel safe with him, but she had only known him for a grand total of an hour. Remus called Moony dangerous, and Elodie had allowed herself to view his opinion as inherently flawed because he seemed to use that as a shield. 

Elodie covered her face with her hands. She had been infantilizing Remus, to a certain extent. It was as if she needed to make a list that involved two versions of Remus, not even the Moony version. On one side, there would be the Remus that tried to push others away. This Remus tried to persuade people like Nymphadora Tonks and Elodie herself that he was too risky a prospect, with too much potential for harm to be a life partner. Elodie did not trust this Remus’s opinions, and she hadn’t trusted his motives even  _ before _ she’d known him personally.

On the other side of her imaginary parchment was the everyday Remus. This Remus’s primary characteristic in her head was his intelligence and integrity. She trusted this Remus with her life. If he said jump, she jumped, and  _ then _ asked why. She would believe anything this Remus told her.

The problem was that in real life, there was no dichotomy. ‘Her’ Remus was the same exact Remus who told Tonks he was ‘too old, too poor, and too dangerous.’ She had created some sort of construct in her head that had split Remus Lupin 80/20. She’d then used the 80% of him that she loved and trusted to invalidate the other 20%. She knew she loved him,  _ all _ of him. Knowing this, she had to face up to every aspect of his personality, not just the bits she liked. You couldn’t walk up to someone and tell them that you had complete and total faith in them, except for where the most important aspect of his life was concerned. Remus saw the fact that he was a werewolf as an integral character flaw. Elodie had been treating him in her mind as though he were being foolish about that, but  _ she _ was the foolish one. She needed to meet Remus in the middle, not stubbornly hoard his good qualities and brush off the things he said were dangerous.

“Well,  _ shit,” _ Elodie said to herself. Which was going to be harder? Brewing and baking the most difficult and prestigious biscuit recipe in magical history or reconciling herself to the fact that Remus might be right about being a bit dangerous? If she trusted him the way she said, the way she  _ felt _ like she did, that was what Elodie was going to have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This recipe for Gâteaufidél was something that I came up with a few years ago and is at the heart of why I wanted to write this story in the first place. I'm so excited to finally share it with you!


	27. Attunement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius 'helps' Elodie with her attunement, then Elodie has a chat with Moony, as it's the night of the full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be my birthday in a week, and the next few chapters are some I've been waiting to post for a long time. So they might come a little faster than normal! It's hard to wait!

November twenty-seventh was the full moon, and Remus told them that morning he planned to sleep almost all day. Elodie shared her plans to spend most of that day in the basement with her attunement potion. 

The design of the potion was really clever. The idea was that the brewer could focus on a particular emotion (it needed to be a strong one) and the potion was designed to turn different colors depending on the emotion attuned to it. She’d borrowed a book from Slughorn’s library during her one visit since the splinching injury, and it was invaluable when it came to perfecting the process. The witch who had written it had been Muggle born, and she had been one of the very first modern Muggle born Potions Masters. The book’s title was hilarious in that context:  _ The Color Purple: How to Make Peace in Attunement. _ The joke, besides the famous Muggle book title, was that peace attunement was the most difficult. To have a strong enough emotion to attune with the emotion of peace and contentment was a true achievement. Anger was the easiest, followed by lust (for obvious reasons), jealousy, love (which was highly situational, also for obvious reasons), and a few others in descending order. 

Elodie was  _ not  _ going to allow herself to use ‘for science’ as a reason to kiss Moony solely to see if she could attune a freaking potion. That was a step too far.

Before she started to try the attunement, Elodie needed to make a quad-batch of the mixture itself. She was finished with this by ten in the morning, and after she’d portioned it out in their round-bottomed vials and set out the bowls she’d need for her first attempt, she went looking for Sirius.

“I need you to help me get really, really angry,” she told him, out in the shed.

“Ellie, I want to just jump right on that, show you I trust you,” Sirius told her, laughing. “But I need more information, first!”

“You know I lost some of my memories?” she prompted him. He nodded. “I’m trying to reconstruct what I’ve lost, essentially. One of the things you  _ have _ to be able to do as a Potions Master is attune an emotion to a potion. That’s what I want to practice today. And one of the easiest emotions to attune--”

“--is anger,” he finished for her. “So naturally, you looked for the most infuriating person in your acquaintance?” Sirius leaned back against the doorway of the shed and sighed in satisfaction, as if he’d accomplished something truly extraordinary.

“I rest my case,” Elodie said, rolling her eyes. “Will you come with me though? Or come down to the potions lab when you’re done?”

“I am completely at your disposal,” Sirius said. 

The two of them walked into the house, and when Elodie got to the basement, she showed him the milky-white potion. She dumped what looked like half into the shallow ceramic bowl and drank the rest.

“You said anger is the easiest to attune?” Sirius stood in the doorway where he had been standing with his hands clasped in front of him, as if he were afraid he could break something by his mere presence. When Elodie nodded, he said, “That makes sense, I guess, but it can’t be the only easy one, right? What about, I don’t know, lust?”

_ “What?” _ Elodie choked out, starting to cough. Sirius walked over and patted her ineffectually on her back, and when Elodie was finished trying to dislodge a lung, she looked up at him with wry amusement. “I’m sure I looked massively attractive, right then. You were saying?”

“I was just volunteering a more pleasant experience, that’s all,” Sirius said in a low voice. He reached toward her and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear in what she was certain he thought was a suave, sexy gesture.

Elodie wasn’t  _ entirely  _ unmoved by this performance, but the thing that made her half crazy was the fact that Sirius seemed to be treating her as some sort of an opportunity to play-act, or worse, a stand in for any of the women he might have encountered in everyday life, had he not been stuck at Phoenix House. If, and that was a big ‘if,’ she were ever in her life going to entertain the idea of enjoying Sirius Black’s company in  _ that _ way (and she most definitely had  _ not _ thought about that at all, ever, since the mistletoe incident, no sir, she had not), it wasn’t as a random conquest. Sirius meant far too much to her for that. 

Her silence had not given Sirius the right idea, it seemed.

“What do American men say in this situation?” he asked rhetorically. “‘Hey, baby, don’t be that way!’ We should have some fun with it, is all I’m saying.” 

Elodie looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. Then, she shoved past him roughly and grabbed one of the potion vials, downing a big gulp of it. Then, she dumped the rest out into the waiting bowl and lifted her wand, casting the attunement spell. She closed her eyes, blocking out Sirius Black with his stupid handsome face and warm hands and instead, she focused on how he’d just made her feel. She wanted to punch him for acting like she was the kind of person who would appreciate a casual ‘hey, wanna get lusty with me?’ kind of offer.

When she opened her eyes, she felt an uncomfortable, angry heat in her belly, and the shallow bowl on the table in front of her was full of a rich, deep red liquid.

She’d successfully attuned  _ fury. _

“Wow, that was more successful than I had expected,” Sirius said, coming over and leaning over to peer at the thick, red potion. “Now, I need to see if you’ve got it all out into the potion or if you still want to hit me.” He turned around and ducked his head to make eye contact with her. “Please tell me you get that I was doing what you asked me for? I think you are a beautiful, intelligent, fierce witch who I’d hate to be on the wrong side of, ever.”

Disgust and irritation still seethed inside her, but Elodie stepped up to him, avoiding his eyes as she leaned over to rest her forehead against the center of his chest. She let out a frustrated, angry sound, and she started counting in her head, trying to distract herself from how upset she’d managed to get. After she’d counted to sixty-five, Sirius’s hand slid across her back, rubbing comfort there. It felt like he was filling the void of her anger with the truth of who he really was, and she lifted her head, kissing the space she’d been leaning against.

“Is everything all right?” Remus’s voice called out from the other side of the potions lab door.

Elodie moved away from Sirius, but his hand slid up into her hair for a few seconds, like he couldn’t help himself. His hand fell away just as Remus peeked his head in through the open lab door. Elodie suppressed a bit of a shiver; Sirius couldn’t have known it, but he’d brushed against a spot on her neck that she  _ really _ liked, and it was in the wake of that feeling that she looked up and met Remus’s questioning gaze.

“I helped Elodie with her pet project,” Sirius told his friend proudly, pointing to the shallow bowl of red liquid. “I made her  _ really _ angry, see?”

“Red stands for anger and irritation,” she offered in explanation. “I’m in self-imposed remedial Potions Master classes, basically.”

“So this is a solid check mark on your list? I’m pleased to see it, then,” Remus said, sounding tired but happy for her.

“I’m really sorry that we woke you up, if that’s what happened,” she said. Impulsively, Elodie walked over to where Remus was standing in the doorway and smiled up at him with a teasing look on her face. “You’re wearing quite the, uh… ‘just woke up’ chic, here.” She adjusted his bathrobe’s crooked collar and tapped his slippered foot with her own sock-clad one. “Any requests for dinner?”

“Not sure you’re ready to attune ‘infatuation’ so soon, Ellie,” Sirius whispered in her ear, placing his hands on her hips briefly as he scooted past first her, then Remus, to escape the room.

Elodie tried to smack him, but missed. “Sirius, you--! Ugh, he’s gone. I mean, it’s not like you don’t know how I feel, already,” Elodie groaned to Remus. “But  _ he _ doesn’t know that! He knows what your hearing is like today of all days!”

Remus cocked his head to the side, clearly confused. “I don’t follow?”

“Sirius is whispering secrets in my ear on a day you can hear them clear as day,” Elodie said. She turned to the attunement potion, clearing it away with a quick spellcast. The potion’s sole purpose was to ensure the brewer knew that they could successfully attune; once it had changed colors, it had served its purpose and could be discarded.

“I am definitely not a hundred percent right now,” Remus said, half to himself, it seemed. He rubbed his eyes with a fist in an action so similar to that of a child that Elodie’s breath caught, imagining Teddy Lupin. Remus looked at her, and she wondered if he’d caught a whiff of guilt, from her. “What was the secret?”

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re being deliberately obtuse, or you really don’t realize I honestly do fancy you,” Elodie said, choosing the British term to really drive the meaning home to him. “He suggested I was looking to attune ‘infatuation’ after commenting on your outfit. Though, if it would convince you, it might be worth a try!”

“You are tenacious, I’ll give you that,” Remus said, shaking his head. “Do you know how often housemates find themselves with crushes on each other? It’s only natural, I suppose.”

“Well,” Elodie said with a note of bitterness in her voice, “That’s a bit better than ‘hero worship,’ I guess. What if  _ you _ had a crush?” she challenged him, turning to face him with arms crossed. “Would you want to be accused of not knowing your own mind? You, as a grown adult?”

“A grown adult  _ werewolf, _ ” Remus corrected. “I can’t afford crushes, and I’m--” he sighed deeply. “I’m too tired to argue with you right now. Please forgive me for walking away on a conversation unfinished?”

“You’re forgiven,” Elodie told him without any hesitation. “And Remus?” he paused in the act of turning away from her, and she couldn’t help the impish smile she could feel creeping its way onto her face as she added, “Don’t worry, okay? It’s  _ not _ a crush.”

To her surprise and delight, a bright red blush chased across his face. It was clear he understood exactly what she meant by that. “Elodie,” he chastened her, his voice low, almost a growl.

“Hah!” she exclaimed. “That’s not going to help you at  _ all,  _ if you’re trying to dissuade me!  _ Merlin,” _ she said, tapping her hand against her chest. “Go run away, Remus. I’ll still be here when you’re ready to try to prove me wrong the next time.”

He didn’t run, but he wasn’t slow, either.

8888888888888888

Luckily, dinner wasn’t awkward, and Remus wasn’t upset with her when she followed him down to the basement late in the evening. He probably thought she was headed to her own bed, but he soon found out that his assumption was wrong.

“It’s too much to hope that you’re simply waiting to say goodnight, isn’t it?” Remus asked her when he’d walked inside his cage and then turned around to see her leaning against the back basement wall.

“I need to talk to Moony,” Elodie told him. There was no sense in trying to hide her intentions, she thought. 

Remus’s eyes widened, and he looked around at his cage, and then at the door to it, as if he were considering slamming it shut to thwart her. “Why?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“Our last conversation was… heated,” Elodie said. She looked down at the floor, toeing at a crease in the concrete. “I don’t like leaving things the way we did, it’s not all that respectful. Then the next full moon I was busy…” she trailed off, not sure how best to explain herself when there was so much she was glossing over as it was. Then, his comment to her in greeting really registered, and she added, “If you feel like I’m hounding you, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable,” at that, she smiled at him with a look as full of genuine affection as she could make it. “Just loved.” Elodie shrugged.

“Just like that?” Remus whispered, looking wild around the edges.

“What do you mean?” she asked. To her, they were too far apart for that kind of a conversation, but she didn’t want to seem pushy, and she knew he could hear her just fine where she was, even though they were standing almost ten yards apart.

“It seems like it’s so simple to you. To me, there’s nothing more-- more  _ fraught!”  _ He seemed to be struggling with his words, and even from where she was standing, Elodie could see that his eyes were starting to glow golden. “This reminds me of that puzzle where there are two spots on a piece of paper, parallel to each other,” Remus said, leaning his shoulder against the open doorway of his cage. “You’re asked to connect them in one movement, and the goal is to do it with the least amount of work. Most take a quill and draw a line between them.”

He paused, and Elodie sensed that he was prompting her to say something, so she asked, “Dragging it through all the space between, yeah. But there’s an easier solution?”

“There is,” he nodded. “Instead of moving the quill, you move the paper. You fold it, and the two dots are instantly together. Easy as that.”

“You  _ have _ to know I’m not looking for easy,” Elodie said, emotion making her voice shake. “I’m not trapped here, like Sirius. I have full autonomy.” Something occurred to her, and she covered her mouth and laughed. “I have Charlie Weasley’s word that he’ll be back for Christmas, come to that!”

Remus narrowed his eyes at her, and she grinned at him.

“I feel fully certain I’d feel like this even if I spent a month of Sundays slaving over failed Wolfsbane cauldrons, you know,” she told him. “I don’t mind the ego boost of being able to help you, but it’s not essential.”

“That part is very appreciated,” Remus broke in. He straightened, scrubbing a hand over his face before he looked right at her. “Look, maybe it’s the fact that I can feel how short my remaining time is, right now, but I want to tell you something, and I need you to hear it.” He walked through the doorway and tipped his head forward, deliberately making eye contact with her despite the distance between them, his expression somber. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

Elodie’s skin broke out in goosebumps. She could  _ feel _ the truth in what he was saying, and it felt like an extra wound underneath her healed one.

“I hear you,” she whispered, barely able to form the words against the ache in her throat. “I can only counter with this: what if I can  _ prove _ I’m not making a frivolous choice? What if I can show you, without doubt, how I feel?”

Remus shut his eyes, and for a blissful second, so did she, picturing him in the meadow, joy on his face, telling her he would never let her go. She wished she could give him that memory, but she knew showing him that in a Pensieve wouldn’t be proof enough for the obstinate, gorgeous man she was standing opposite from.

Nymphadora Tonks had proved her love, hadn’t she? Her hair had lost its brightness, in the face of her misery without him. Her  _ patronus _ had changed shape! The books showed that Remus Lupin  _ was _ persuadable.

When Elodie opened her eyes, Remus was looking at her as if he were trying to memorize her features. Their eyes met, and with an almost scared look, his eyes almost fully golden, he answered her.

_ “I don’t know.” _

Then, he shut his eyes, and his body went through a tiny shudder. The hands at his sides lifted to grip the doorway behind him, and he opened his eyes as Moony.

Elodie hadn’t known how she would react to seeing Moony. When she’d lain in bed and wondered if she would feel guilt, desire, or fear, she hadn’t thought at all about how  _ he _ would react to seeing  _ her. _

After their eyes met, Moony started forward, and it only took a few strides and a couple of seconds for him to reach her. When he was standing in front of her, his eyes seemed drawn to her chest and the curves of the scars that were peeking out above the neckline of her shirt.

“Hurt?” 

“No, healed,” Elodie told him, grabbing his hand and placing it flat against her chest without a second thought. “Months ago.”

Moony’s other hand reached out to lift her chin, so he could look her directly in her eyes. She knew he was gauging whether she was telling him the truth. After a few seconds of looking into his golden eyes, he nodded.

“Please,” he said then. “Show me?”

He lifted his hand from her chest, and she saw he was shaking, a little. This shirt didn’t have buttons, but Elodie cast an enlarging charm on the neckline, and she pulled the opening over her left shoulder, the dip in the now stretched out fabric exposing the spiral scars from her splinching in full detail. Moony placed one large hand at her right shoulder, and gently, delicately, he started tracing the spider-web thin scars at the outer edges of her splinching injury.

At first, Elodie watched his hand as he moved from scar to scar, the pad of his finger light and so very gentle that she felt tears pricking the back of her eyelids. Then, as the scars curved inwards, growing wider and longer, she found her gaze drawn to his face. The concentration there was not unlike the concentration that had been on Remus’s face as he’d desperately sought to heal her, those same hands moving in almost the same gestures, then. When Moony reached the very center of her injury, he stroked the flat of his thumb against the irregular circle, his other hand on her shoulder tightening against her in what she was certain was an unconscious gesture of support. She was so moved by his actions that a tear made its way down her cheek.

Suddenly, both of his hands swept up to cradle her face, and Moony leaned over to make sure she was looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he said. She thought sure he was going to kiss her, and she didn’t know how she felt about that, but instead, he turned her head very gently to the side and pulled her to his chest in a hug.

“Thank you,” Elodie whispered, more tears falling now, because here she was pressed up against the same clothing that Remus had been wearing earlier when he’d told her he didn’t think he could give her what she wanted. Sometimes she thought the dichotomy of the man was going to kill her! “Moony?” she said, a little louder than before.

“I’m here,” he said, sliding his hands up to her arms and then down along them, sweetly releasing her.

“How did you know?” she asked him. “About my scars, I mean.”

Moony’s lip turned up in a slight smile. “I’m there, just in the background.” He didn’t elaborate, and she supposed she didn’t need him to, really. She understood what he meant.

“So you know that Remus is rejecting me?” she said, feeling the words struggle to leave her mouth, as if voicing them made them more valid, somehow.

He nodded. “Because of  _ me,” _ he said. Then, he turned and walked away from her, into the cage, where he reached one hand out and grabbed the door, holding it in tension as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to slam it or use it to hold himself up.

Elodie thought of something, then, and she couldn’t decide if the outcome of such a thing would be ruin, or reconciliation. “Tell him you kissed me. Can you do that?” she asked Moony, coming up behind him, feeling the Repelling Charm at the mouth of his cage press back against her, just slightly. “What would he say? How could he be more dangerous to me than you are!” Her words were strident, and she hated the way that sounded, as if she were yelling at him in anger. She wasn’t angry at Moony. She wasn’t even sure she was angry at Remus.

“He would leave.”

Elodie felt like she’d been struck by lightning.  _ “What?” _ she said, unable to believe him. “If he knew you’d--”

“--touched you. He would never trust himself again. I have betrayed him, and you,” Moony said. He sounded upset, and Elodie pushed herself away from the cage and ran around the corner, trying to get a look at his face. He turned slightly away from her, and all she could see was how tightly his eyes were screwed shut.

“God, Moony, please,  _ no,” _ she gasped out, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. The weight of what he was saying, that he felt guilty when the fault was hers, hers,  _ hers, _ it was tearing her apart, cell by cell. “That was me, that was my fault, not yours, never,  _ never _ yours. I took what you offered and..” Elodie was walking beside the cage, trying to slip her fingers between the bars, repelled by Albus’s charm each time. She kept trying. “--I pushed you too far, we were both angry, we-- oh!” Elodie collapsed at the doorway, her back turned away from him, her shoulders resting in mid-air against the solid wall of magic that Albus’s human repelling charm had conjured there.

There were no weaknesses in the cage’s charms. She wouldn’t have allowed that to happen, and that meant there was no soothing the wolf who had trapped himself inside it. 

Elodie sobbed, feeling the seconds tick by and knowing she had to force herself to stand, to help him complete the steps that kept the werewolf away from everyone he could hurt.

Suddenly, Moony’s arms came around her, cradling her against his chest, her back to his front. “I am not sorry,” he said, the words low and rough, almost a growl. “You are good to us. You are good  _ for  _ us.”

He kissed her head, then above her ear, then he swept her hair away from her neck, and instinctively, Elodie tipped her head to the side. She could feel his breath against her skin, but he didn’t make the final move to kiss her. His arms shuddered as they held her, and then, shockingly, he stood, lifting her weight on his forearms as they were wrapped around her. The shaking intensified, and as he pulled back and away, she felt a sting on her side. Elodie whipped her wand out and tapped it against the wards, making sure they were activated, and she ran from the cage, knowing that this was what he wanted, hoping he wouldn’t think she was afraid.

She turned her head but not her body, and said, “I’m going. Be safe, love.” She knew she couldn’t hear him, but before she mounted the stairs, she forced herself to look, because she hadn’t heard or seen the cage door shut. She saw that the door had indeed been closed. She saw, beyond the bars, a glimpse of a figure bent at an impossible-looking angle, an arm reaching, sleeve ripped, and finally a blur of grey-brown fur, before she ran up the stairs.

Elodie flung the basement door open and ran through it, right into the waiting arms of Sirius Black.

“You’re bleeding,” Sirius said. She pulled her upper body away enough to stare at him, uncomprehendingly, and he moved his arm away from supporting her to cup her face, holding it steady as he looked into her eyes for a second. Elodie blinked at him, and she swayed, reaching out for him to stop her fall, and he shook his head decisively. Then, he slid one arm around her back, the other under her knees, and lifted her up against his chest.

“I’m fine,” Elodie said weakly. She felt completely drained, as if she’d been casting spells non-stop for an hour or more. She struggled to see Sirius’s face, but she could only see his profile. He looked concerned and determined, his lips curved down into a frown.

There was a jolt as he kicked his bedroom door open, and seconds later he laid her down on his bed.

“Sirius?”

“Ellie, you need to tell me, does your mind feel clear? Can you concentrate? What year is it?” Sirius asked her.

Elodie laughed. Of all the questions to ask her,  _ that _ one was the worst, considering her whole situation! As she laughed, Sirius knelt beside the bed, pulling up her shirt on that side, which was a bit ticklish, which made her scoot away from him, toward the center of the bed.

“You might be hurt!” Sirius said in exasperation. He climbed up beside her and, when she tried to block him from tickling her further, he grabbed her wrists in his hands and held them up against the headboard with his left hand. This made him have to angle his body over hers while he kneeled beside her.

The worry and exasperation made his eyes bright, and the determination on his face was so close to a different kind of emotion that suddenly, Elodie calmed, though her heartbeat kept its frantic pace. She was lying beneath him, her arms restrained as he loomed over her. Despite the confusion of the circumstances, she felt a tingle of awareness grow in her gut.

“It’s 1994,” she whispered. She realized then that she hadn’t fixed her shirt. It was still stretched out at the neckline, and after all her struggling, it was practically showing all of her chest and most of one shoulder. 

“Good,” Sirius said. “Will you stay still for me? I need to check--” That was the moment he saw the state of her clothes, and Elodie was fascinated by his reaction. Sirius’s grey eyes traced her from her face, to her neck, her chest, and down. He swallowed, and his hand gentled where he was holding her wrists. “Did--” he looked back at her chest, and in a single move, he let go of her hands and slid that hand through her hair and down to where her shirt hung loose. He shook his head as he touched the fabric. Then, he pulled it up to cover her. Sirius lost his balance and caught himself with one hand on either side of her head. “Did Moony --?”

Elodie moved to mirror his gesture of pulling her shirt’s neckline up, for modesty’s sake. “No, I actually cast a spell to do it, to show him the splinching scars.” 

“You have a little cut, on your side. It’s fresh,” Sirius told her. “I was worried that-- Well. You are still you, but, here.” He moved to sit beside her and took her hand in his, pressing her fingers to the wound. It was a thin, barely there thing, and Elodie remembered that as she’d moved away from the cage, right as Moony was shaking and about to shift, she’d felt a sting.

“I cut it a little close,” she admitted, turning her head away from him. She felt for her wand, wanting to fix her shirt, and she couldn’t find it. “Shit,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “I bet my wand fell out onto the floor. And Remus can sense blood, can’t he? He’s going to have kittens, when he wakes up tomorrow!”

“Here, I’ll be right back, you just… make yourself comfortable,” Sirius said, sliding off of the bed and winking at her. 

Elodie sat up and her shirt practically fell off. She rolled her eyes at Sirius’s innuendo, but that prickle of awareness was still active deep inside her. She could still feel his hand wrapped around her wrists, could still picture him poised above her, looking at the way her shirt had left her almost bare. 

“The good news is, the summoning charm worked perfectly the first time,” Sirius called out to her from the hallway. He walked into the room and held out her wand. “Bad news is, I tried to summon ‘Elodie’s favorite shirt,’ but nothing happened.” He put his hands on his hips and pretended to look upset at her. “Let me guess: you want one of my shirts, again?”

“I could hardly prevent myself from having a favorite shirt solely on the off chance I got to steal one of yours again!” she protested. 

“Oh, I don’t know, you’re tricky like that,” he said. “Budge over.”

“What?!” Elodie said, but she did scoot over. Sirius held up a finger, then turned his back on her and started to take off his trousers. When it was clear that was what he was doing, though, Elodie squealed and pulled one of his pillows over her head.

“Have I  _ finally _ found something to scare you?” Sirius said, after climbing up onto the bed beside her. She shook her head, knowing he would see the pillow shake rather than seeing a definitive answer. “I’m going to grab the blanket, don’t freak out, okay?” he said, and then she felt him hook his arm under her knees and lift her up long enough to yank his enormous blanket out from under her. When he let her go, she stretched her legs out, and she felt the warmth of the blanket settle on top of her.

It was getting stuffy under the pillow, so Elodie flipped it over and rested her head on it instead. “My turn to tell you not to freak,” she said, and she angled her body up by her feet to pull her own trousers off. She’d already balled them up and tossed them at the door to the room (so she would know where to find them, in the morning) by the time he’d whipped his wand out.

“I was going to offer to  _ fold _ those,” he told her, sounding so fake disapproving that she reached a hand out for one of his other pillows. The satisfying ‘squish’ sound when she thumped him with the pillow was just  _ the best, _ she thought.

“I cannot imagine something  _ less likely _ than you offering to fold a woman’s clothes before you share the bed for the night, Sirius Black,” Elodie told him, laughing so hard she nearly snorted. “And how did you finagle this, anyway?!” she asked, turning on her side and poking him in the chest. “You are sneaky.”

“Excuse me if I was trying to rescue the fair lady in distress,” he said. His tone had lost the teasing quality though, and as a result, his voice sounded deep and gravely.  _ That _ voice did things to her, it always had, even when he’d been a fictional character and she’d just been reading about him as a spirited, innocent man who never got the exoneration he so deserved. Given that she’d just spent passionate minutes begging the werewolf downstairs to allow himself to believe she loved him, the way she felt right now was confusing and dangerous.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, knowing her long silence was causing him to speculate on its meaning. Elodie wanted to reach over and give him a hug, wanted to kiss his cheek and tease him about how chivalrous a Gryffindor lion he was. But she felt like this moment in time was a tipping point, and she could see him being impulsive, turning his head at the last moment and causing all of her hard work with Remus to catch fire and burn in the face of that impulse.

Elodie reached out and grabbed his hand, kissed the back of it, and rolled over.

“--and thanks for sharing your bed. Though I seem to recall that you tend to sleep without a  _ shirt, _ not without trousers. If you want to get up and swap, I won’t accuse you of anything,” she said. 

“Bugger, you’re right,” Sirius muttered. “I’ll take you up on that. I think I got distracted.”

“Good night, Sirius,” she told him sweetly.

“Good night, witch,” he said, slipping out of bed, presumably to change. Though she felt him climbing back in, she fell asleep soon afterwards, counting sheep in her head to stave off any of the persistent images from those last few hours.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the idea here with her scratch is that it isn't necessarily from Remus's transformation, like a claw or something. Just that something about him pulling away from her ended up with a scratch, and Sirius was worried about it. It's a minor detail, not an indication that Elodie is going to be like Bill Weasley or something.


	28. The Puzzle Itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to bake Gâteaufidél! This should go very smoothly, with no hiccups or unexpected results at all.
> 
> {Welp, here it comes, bahahaha. When I started this story, did I expect it to take me nearly 200,000 words to get to this point? No I did not. It's been fun getting here though. And we're NOWHERE near finished.}

 

The problem with waking up next to someone you care about, Elodie realized, is that the next time you fall asleep alone, you end up missing their presence, even if you aren’t in a relationship.

Elodie had spent the last week waking up with a feeling of vague loss, so much so that on day six, she actually had lengthened one of her pillows and cast a long-lasting warming charm on it. When she’d woken up that next morning, she’d loved the feeling so much she’d rolled over and hugged her pillow, only to realize that she’d basically created a simulated Sirius Black.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she’d said, then.

The problem was, on the morning after the full moon, Elodie had woken with Sirius’s arm casually slung over her hips. She’d been curled up on her side, and Sirius had apparently slept pressed up against her, with his left arm draped across her in such a proprietary way that she’d felt kind of touched by how careless it was. His warm, solid presence at her back felt like belonging, even though she was sure he hadn’t intended to migrate  _ quite _ so close to her. 

Extricating herself hadn’t been that difficult, and Elodie hadn’t noticed anything odd from Sirius since, so she had decided that there just wasn’t a way to sleep in a bed with someone as physically affectionate as Sirius Black without ending up with one of his limbs intruding on your personal space.

Attunement went wonderfully that first week of December. The only problem was that Sirius was inordinately interested in her attempts, and would drop by to figure out what emotion she was working on almost every day. She’d warded the door shut the day she’d woken up with her Sirius Black pillow, because she felt she was ready to attune her feelings for Remus into the potion, and there was no way in this universe or her old one that she was going to let Sirius walk in on her doing that.

Annoyingly, ‘love’ attunement was pink, and all the literature she’d read about the process said that it was easy to accidentally get frustrated during the process and end up with something that  _ looked _ pink but was actually mildly red, from the frustration/irritation. 

The other thing she needed to make was a Fidelity potion, which was the easiest potion that drew on emotions to brew. For the Gâteaufidél, she didn’t have to make her own Fidelity potion. She could buy one, but of course Elodie didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to make one for herself. She’d dropped by Slughorn’s place a few days earlier and returned his  _ Color Purple _ book, and told him the good news about her successes with attunement. 

The thing she hadn’t done was to tell him she was planning to try to make Gâteaufidél, though. The sense that she got about that recipe was that having an unmarried, single person bake them was on par with a high school drama student star in their own Disney film. It probably wasn’t completely unheard of, but it was the kind of urban legend story you never heard from the actual source, always from a friend of a friend. If she managed to do it,  _ then _ maybe she’d tell him, but she doubted it. Something (probably the books themselves) gave her the impression that he was a bit of a gossip.

The fun thing for Elodie about brewing the Fidelity potion was picking the fact that she would focus on as the basis for the strength of the potion. Fidelity was brewed by using the brewer’s faith in something or someone to create cohesion between ingredients that wouldn’t ordinarily bond together. That was one of the ways you could know for sure that you succeeded in brewing it, too. Dragon Claw Ooze and Thrice Dried Goosegrass were two of the ingredients, and they would not mix together properly without magic. The brewer would place the four main ingredients into a cauldron with a plus symbol drawn in oil that very loosely separated them. Then, after casting a  _ Constantia Charm, _ you focused on the light that appeared in your cupped hands, focusing with all your strength and magic on a fact that you firmly believed to be true, or sometimes a person who you trusted completely.

The book Elodie had read about love and constancy charms had guessed that the Fidelity potion actually involved some wandless magic, due to the way the person focused their mind on the light in their hands, but however it worked, after a period of thirty seconds, the orb of light was placed in the center of the prepared cauldron. It would cause the oil separation to be destroyed, and the four ingredients then bonded together, causing a thin, watery liquid to result. The result didn’t look anything like the ingredients that went into it.

When used, the potion would take the belief infused into it by the brewer and bestow it on the person who drank it, for a period of time. During the Spanish Inquisition, some magic users would slip doses of Fidelity to their Muggle and Squib family members to help them survive the questions they had to face about Catholicism and belief. It was a shame that potions weren’t part of the scope of Remus’s articles for  _ Orion’s Belt, _ Elodie thought, because that was exactly the sort of magic history stuff that she loved to read about. 

Since it wasn’t an attunement potion, Elodie had forgotten to lock or ward the potion lab door when she started making Fidelity. She was already past the part where she had to focus, and was simply standing and watching the swirl of magic in the cauldron when Sirius snuck into the room.

To his credit, though, he must have seen that interrupting her might be dangerous to the brewing process, and when Elodie heard some fabric swishing noises behind her, she turned to see him poised to knock on the inside of the door. She immediately understood that he was trying to get her attention in a non threatening way, and she nodded and smiled at him.

“That looks way more interesting than anything I made at Hogwarts,” Sirius whispered.

“You don’t have to whisper,” Elodie told him, using a quiet tone of voice despite herself. She felt a surge of affection for him. “It’s at the ‘fire and forget’ stage now.”

“What potion is it, if I may ask?”

“Fidelity. One of the easier potions for emotion attunement, just another in the steps to retrain myself,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. He’d already guessed that she might be trying to make the Gâteaufidél, and this potion was an integral component. Elodie did not want to have to deal with Sirius teasing her about it.

“I’ve heard of that one. You focus on something you believe, right? What did you pick?” Sirius asked, shooting her a sideways look as if he thought she’d be afraid to tell him.

Elodie didn’t hesitate. “That Voldemort will be completely defeated,” she said. It was a universe-centric belief, one she felt she could firmly focus on, whereas things like ‘Bill Clinton will be elected to a second term’ or ‘Albus Dumbledore is a good guy’ might have been things she firmly believed, but probably not with as much conviction. There were nuances to the latter, and she didn’t know if magic added any political uncertainty to this world when it came to the former. However, she’d forgotten how uncertain the eventual defeat of Voldemort might still feel to someone who hadn’t read to the end of that particular story.

Sirius was staring at her as if she were some rare species of magical creature.

Elodie bit her lip. “I mean,” she said, guilt making her question herself. “It seems clear that if Igor Karkaroff is scared enough to hare around Diagon Alley and Knockturn screaming at people to help him, that something’s going on, right?” 

“I’m not shocked because I thought he was gone,” Sirius told her. “I’m shocked because you believe that so strongly you’ve made clear water looking stuff out of that mess of goo and red powder. That’s… Well, that’s conviction, right there.”

“I wish I could tell you it was as blind a faith as you probably see it as,” Elodie said sadly, knowing she probably sounded cryptic. She didn’t deserve his praise or his awe, though. She knew it firmly enough to count on it as a catalyst only because she’d read the books, after all. The books that had him dying in less than two years,  _ before _ the defeat she was so certain would happen.

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It was about two weeks since Elodie had asked Remus to pick up the supplies she’d written out for the Gâteaufidél when she finally felt like she was ready to give the recipe a go. Her friendship with Remus was valuable to her, and she felt like she couldn’t hurt it that much further if she proved to him that she was up for the task of loving him wholeheartedly. Moony’s frightening words still rang in the back of her mind like a gong that threatened to drag her confidence away, but a counter to that was Remus himself, from the meadow.

_ I am just never letting you go! _

All that was different in that moment for Remus, she had convinced herself, was that he had felt genuinely loved by her, in that moment. That fairy dust had chased away all the spectres of werewolf danger, imperfect feelings, and any other impediments. Remus was  _ happy _ in that moment. He’d been secure and delighted by having her by his side, and all she wanted to do was toggle whatever switch that allowed those thoughts free rein in his head once again.

The recipe would take almost five hours, so Elodie decided she would start it after breakfast on the ninth of December. By the tenth, she’d know whether she could persuade Remus that she truly loved him, or she’d know that she had been a fool to attempt such a difficult recipe in the first place.

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“You’re being ridiculous,” Sirius said from the other side of the magical barrier she’d conjured in the doorway to their living room.

“You poked me,” Elodie said, her voice even and devoid of all emotion. She checked her stopwatch, counted the last three seconds down, and dripped the eighteenth and final drop of Veela Tear Extract into the saucepan. Only then did she look over at Sirius. “You poked me in the middle of the  _ concentration _ section of the recipe. The only time I asked that you please leave me alone!”

“I had no idea you were at that part already!” Sirius protested. He leaned against the wall, trying to offer puppy dog eyes to her, but the barrier shot sparks when he bumped it with his elbow. It was far from the first time he’d sparked it, too.

“You couldn’t tell I was concentrating?” she asked, widening her eyes in mock shock. “Was it the way I was standing, with my eyes shut, and my palms hovering over the cookie batter?”

“All right, that was probably obv--”

“Or was it the way the batter lifted up under my palms, all wobbly and unsupported?”

“Ellie, come on, I was just--”

“Oh! I know! It’s how I did it all  _ without a wand _ , through sheer force of--say it with me, Sirius _ \--concentration!!” _

“Sirius, leave Elodie alone, she’s asked you to go away eleven times now. Whatever she’s making is important. I wasn’t even  _ home _ when she started it and even I could have told you that.” Remus’s voice came from the living room, and Elodie could picture him in his chair, reading the newspaper and looking frustrated at the way Sirius kept hounding her.

Sirius walked away from the doorway, and Elodie’s timer beeped. She lifted the saucepan off of the stove and sniffed at it. It smelled gorgeously like almonds.

“Ellie, he has an actual fucking  _ tally _ . On his newspaper,” Sirius called out.

“That one counts. I’m adding a tick,” Remus’s voice followed, sounding amused.

Elodie’s heart surged for the two of them. “I love you, too!” she called out, then she giggled.  _ Of all the things to say, now of all times! _ she said to herself.  _ Okay, back to making this monstrosity. _

Complex was a mild word, when it came to the Gâteaufidél. She’d already brewed the Fidelity potion, which would then be used in a standard cocoa biscuit recipe, with standard ingredients, right up until the moment the baker would typically chill the dough. That was where Gâteaufidél was special.

Instead of a chilling charm, or even setting the dough aside on conjured ice, for  _ this _ recipe, the baker/brewer would cast an infusion of their genuine love and adoration for someone, straight into the dough. This was done by attuning yourself to the fidelity potion, by drinking the other half of the dose that was in the batter, then casting a specific, specially designed attunement charm. This was a variation of the charm she’d been practicing all week; it was specific to this recipe in particular. The baker/brewer then would go into a meditative state, attuning their love and affection for their target to the actual potion in their body, relating that specific mixture to the potion in the dough, and  _ focusing _ it. The result was that the molecules of Fidelity potion then became imbued with the actual emotional attachment of the person creating the biscuits.

If done right, that attunement would hold even after baking. Anyone who wasn’t the baker or the person they loved would be unable to touch the finished biscuits without them losing all integrity and breaking apart into thousands of crumbs. At least, that was what had happened in ancient times, before a particularly brilliant witch named Wylda the Wonderful had altered part of the recipe. She had been obsessed with animals, and in her position as the head of a magical primary school, she’d spent a lot of time creating special charms and enchantments to delight the children in her care. It was said that one of the children had a father who was a widower. Wylda had fallen for him, and the two had married in 1284. Her new husband had married her for love but had refused to believe that she could have married him for any other reason than security, as he was much older and not very wealthy.

Wylda had spent two years altering the Gâteaufidél recipe (which, before that, had been known by some name Elodie could never remember, much less  _ spell) _ to be more charming and attractive--she’d incorporated an animation charm that ended up inspiring the creators of Chocolate Frogs, centuries later. The result was a chocolate biscuit that was, it was said, incredibly delicious. The cookies were designed to look like a bunny, and while Elodie had the original (translated to modern English) recipe that explained how to do this with globs of dough, she had bought an actual ‘official’ cookie cutter for her attempt. The enchantment she would cast on it right before she put them in the oven would cause an actual chemical reaction, enhanced by magic. The molecule disintegration spurred a magical burst of energy in the baked cookie. That was the source of energy that would trigger if anyone but the baker or their loved one touched them.

The Veela tears were a more modern addition, as well. The original additive had a more explosive effect if the recipe failed, which had in the past caused some poor sods to lose fingers. Veela tears satisfied the recipe’s need for some sort of potential longing, and they were commercially available bottled. The hardest part was already done, and that was the focused attunement, which Sirius had very nearly ruined. Elodie wondered if she’d been too hard on him, since she’d only been a few seconds into that part of the recipe when he had interrupted so rudely.

Wylda the Wonderful’s husband had been convinced of her love, according to history. He’d handed the biscuits out to the children in the school, and the story said they’d all watched with delight as the treats hopped away. Elodie always found that part incredibly annoying--all that work, and most of the result was wasted!

Another alarm went off, and Elodie took the imbued dough, held to the correct consistency by the power of the magic inside it, and started to knead it, coating her fingers with the almond smelling Veela tear flavoring. She knew that she should expect to be a little emotional during this part, but she only needed to work the dough for five minutes.

“Is this only charmed against ‘recalcitrant Purebloods?’” Remus asked her, quoting part of her angry rant.

“No, it’s against everyone, sorry,” she said, shooting a look at him over her shoulder. “Are you out of tea?”

“That, and I wanted to see what you were up to,” Remus said, sounding a little offended.

“Sorry. This--” Elodie lifted a hand, showing off the drippy, sticky dough she was working on, “--has actually got an ingredient with a warning on the label that says, if I can remember it correctly, ‘Will Cause Emotional Instability in Higher Doses.’ So, beware, I guess?”

“Apology accepted,” Remus said gently. “What  _ are _ you making, by the way? You’ve been in there for hours--and I’m not complaining, mind you. You know how much I love almond and chocolate together.”

“This is the baking equivalent of the Wolfsbane potion, except all in one day. If it works, it’s going to be freaking  _ amazing,” _ she told him. The emotional instability she’d been preparing herself for was hovering under the surface, and she resisted the sudden urge to tell him just how important to her the recipe actually was. How she’d waited months for the courage to even try to bake it. When Albus had gifted her the potion book, she’d read through it all, including Gâteaufidél. She’d been enchanted by the idea of such a romantic recipe, and (as she assumed many young women had, before her) had hoped that someday she’d have a reason to make it.

“Have I heard of it?” Remus asked, sounding intrigued.

“I hope so,” she murmured. Then, louder, “Two minutes, tops, then you can come in and refresh your tea.” She turned and favored him with a smile. “Just because I know you don’t want to ask, and risk my being angry.”

“Two minutes?” Now he looked very confused.

“Until I take down the zapper, Remus. The biscuits will be at  _ least _ an hour.”

“That’s over  _ four hours _ in total! How big of a batch does that thing make?” 

She didn’t blame him for his incredulity. It was an unconventional recipe in the first place, and she was, most probably, in the most unconventional situation to ever attempt it. “Hmm, probably about thirty? I don’t remember.”

“Elodie.” Remus sounded like he was using Professor Voice. 

She turned around, the Veela tears in the kneaded mixture prodding her towards boundaries she hoped she wouldn’t need anymore, once she’d finished. Her voice was dangerously fond. “Remus, dearest? Go away.”

He actually stood there and looked at her curiously for a long minute before he nodded and went back into the living room, his empty tea mug in his hand.

Elodie washed her hands three times, then cast a gentle cleansing charm on her hands before she turned toward the ordinary looking pile of dough. It was time to roll it out, use the cookie cutter, and then cast Wylda’s charm. Then, all that would be left would be to bake them, cool them, and hand one to the man she’d just banished from her presence.

It would be an easy, zero stress afternoon, she joked to herself. Nothing at stake but her whole heart.

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Elodie had checked the oven temperature at least seven times before she finally put the three trays inside. Each tray had ten bunny-shaped cookies on it. They would bake for almost an hour, with a temperature that was atypically low by necessity. Magic kept them from burning, she knew. Even after they came out, they would need to air cool for a half hour. It was time for a late lunch--her housemates had been patient in that regard, which she was very grateful for.

“You may re-enter the kitchen, thank you for your patience, Remus,” Elodie said, standing in the doorway to demonstrate that her force field of crackling magical energy had been removed. 

“No ‘thank you’ for me?” Sirius complained loudly from the living room.

“Well, I made you a sandwich I know you’ll love, the kettle just started whistling, and I haven’t hexed you bald, so I think you have a lot to be grateful for, don’t you?” Elodie told him.

“I know what you are baking!” he whispered to her in a sing-song, ‘tattle-tale’ voice as he paused beside her in the doorway. 

“This is one of those situations where telling on me will just  _ help, _ so tease away, I am immune!” she told him, but she was shaking a little bit, something Sirius noticed as well. He reached over and picked up her left arm, holding it in between them. As they both watched, her hand trembled as if she were affected by some sort of curse.

“It will work out, I know it will,” he told her, his voice full of persuasive confidence.

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When Elodie’s charmed alarm went off and she took the baking trays out, she had a moment of panic. Did they rest on the trays to cool, or on wire cooling racks? Would conjured cooling racks work? She wasn’t ready to try to touch one so soon, she realized. Her stomach was a knot of knots as she raced out to the living room to grab her TOAm and check what it said about cooling the cookies.

Her anxiety must have made Sirius uncomfortable, because he had said something noncommittal about his motorbike being almost ready to test out and hurried outside. She’d thought sure he would want to see whether her recipe worked. Maybe he wanted to give the two of them privacy, though.

“You are more high strung than Phillipe Petit,” Remus said, looking over the top of his book at her. “What’s going on with you today?”

“I really love that you know who that is! Though if you tell me he is a wizard I’m going to be extremely cross with you. The beauty of crossing between the two towers of the World Trade Center on a high wire is completely and utterly ruined if he was a wizard!” Elodie said, her voice sounding jittery.

Thinking about the World Trade Center was  _ not _ helping her anxiety, either. She wondered how long a magical alarm clock could be set for. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to forget that particular event she would want to prevent, but magic had a way of insulating a person from the cares of the everyday Muggle world. Elodie had every intention of trying to make every part of this world a better place, and stopping 9/11 was definitely not exempt from that. Neither was the 7/7 bombing, years afterwards.

“All the color just drained out of your face,” Remus said, setting his book down.

“I just remembered something I dreamed about, something horrible,” Elodie told him evasively. “Let’s just say I don’t want  _ anyone _ to fall from that far, and leave it at that? And change the subject,” she added. She had years to worry about  _ those _ particular global problems. The most important one to her right now had about fifteen minutes on its timer.

“Before I change the subject: no, Phillipe Petit was not a wizard, I’m sure of it,” Remus told her, smiling gently. “But one of his friends was. He made a Wizard’s Oath not to use any magic on Petit unless he was already falling, and then, only to put him in a stasis coma that would prevent pain on landing,  _ not _ to save his life.” Elodie gasped, putting her hands over her mouth in surprise, but Remus wasn’t done. “I know about it because his friend had an article in a French magical newspaper explaining that while he did help with the rigging and the sneaking around, all the Muggle way, he had to make the Oath or Petit wouldn’t allow him to assist at all.”

“I am never going to get over the way magic and Muggle cultures intersect, sometimes,” Elodie said, lowering her hands but not her eyebrows. “I feel like Muggles are getting only about 65% of the story, ever! I don’t know if I even want to know if you have anecdotes about the Titanic, or the burning of the library in Alexandria!”

“Oh! Fake ash,” Remus said, then clapped his own hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Remus!!” Elodie stood up and put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot. “I mean, I’m glad to hear that, but I  _ just said--” _

“I remember I was nine years old when I learned about that fire,” Remus said, placing his book on the end table and crossing one leg over the other. “I was completely  _ devastated,” _ he said, his hands moving in emphasis in front of him. “I actually cried. My mother looked up everything she could find about it, in both Muggle and magical literature, to find out if it had really been the great loss the history books call it. It took her two weeks.” Remus scratched his eyebrow, but Elodie suspected he was actually hiding how emotional the memory had made him. “I will never forget how determined she was. I have not looked to make sure she wasn’t lying, but I think if she had lied to me, she would have pretended to know it was fake ash remains from the beginning.”

Elodie stood spellbound through his story. She didn’t feel uncomfortable or anything, she just stayed still and listened. When he was finished, her heart was so full, she felt like she could have attuned a room full of potions. She didn’t get a chance to say anything, though, because in the kitchen, an alarm sounded.

“I thought you got them from the oven already?” Remus asked, looking surprised.

“I have. This is the alarm that says they’re probably cool enough to eat, now,” Elodie said. She stood still and looked through the doorway of the kitchen. She could see the Gâteaufidél trays on the counter and stove, waiting.

“It’s almost three in the afternoon,” Remus commented, putting his wand away after having cast his  _ Tempus _ charm. “That’s a long process! I hope you won’t be disappointed in them, after all that.”

Elodie looked over at Remus, feeling her anxiety forming a kind of lens that made everything look sharper and more in focus, more important. “They’re not for me, anyway. They’re for you.” Before Remus could react, she walked into the kitchen and hovered her hand over one of the cookies. With a deep breath, she shut her eyes and let her hand drift down.

The cookie felt solid, with a slight give that came from its cakey texture.

She picked it up and looked at the perfectly formed bunny shaped cookie--biscuit, Remus would call them--in her hand. Now was the moment she’d been waiting for. Elodie walked out of the kitchen and came up to stand beside Remus’s chair. He’d grabbed his book again, and when he saw her out of the corner of his eye, he placed his bookmark inside it and set it on the end table again. The way he always gave her his full attention made her feel like all of the stress she’d gone through that day was utterly worth it.

“Would you like to try one?” she asked. She lowered her hand so that she wasn’t just handing him the cookie in a way that obscured its shape. The shape of Gâteaufidél was iconic, and there were even mini ‘Enfantfidél’ bunny cookies with chocolate edging that were sold at treat stores.

“Thank you!” Remus said. He picked up the biscuit. It didn’t disappear.

Elodie’s heart soared. That he could touch them shouldn’t have been surprising to her, given that  _ she’d _ been able to touch them. Still, she’d just done something extraordinary, and she felt like she was taking her place in a long line of Potion Masters who had succeeded in showing their true love in a tangible way. 

After a few seconds, she heard Remus let out a happy sound. “Mmmff, this is  _ delicious, _ Elodie, my goodness. I know I wasn’t the one working so hard, but as the person eating this, I have to tell you, that might have been worth the wait,” Remus told her. He hardly  _ ever  _ spoke with his mouth full, but he did now.

The only problem was, he clearly hadn’t recognized it as something more significant than a delicious chocolate biscuit that took a damnably long amount of time to make. The funny part was that this just made him all the more lovable. Here Remus Lupin was, being handed one of the most iconic biscuit recipes in the magical world, and he just thought it was a pretty damned good cookie.  _ Oh, Remus! _ Elodie thought to herself, full of affection and exasperation.

Just then, Sirius opened the front door. He shut it behind him, but the breeze that came through wasn’t as cold as early December usually was. They were experiencing a bit of a warm spell, with temperatures in the mid fifties, Fahrenheit.

“They’re finally cooled, then?” Sirius asked, winking at her.

“Sirius, you need to try one of these, honestly,” Remus said, holding what was left of his cookie. “This is, hands down, the best biscuit I’ve ever eaten.”

“Oh, is  _ that _ all?” Sirius joked. It was funny as a reaction to Remus’s over the top declaration, but to Elodie, Sirius’s comment had an extra layer to it, a mild rebuke that went over Remus’s head entirely. Gâteaufidél was, of course, never  _ only _ a delicious biscuit. 

“Here, I tell you what, I’ll go pick one out and you can watch my face when I get to try it,” Sirius said, making eye contact with Elodie as he spoke.

Elodie turned around and walked into the kitchen, finally allowing herself to make a face in response to Remus not having recognized the significance of what he was eating. She covered her face with both hands when Sirius walked in.

“Don’t say it,” she whispered with a groan.

“How did you not see this coming?” he said, anyway.

Elodie glared at him.

“Ellie,” Sirius whispered, moving to stand beside her, resting a hand on the counter. 

Elodie grabbed the tray of Gâteaufidél closest to his hand and moved it out of the way, in case he slipped up and hand-planted in the middle of the entire tray. She did  _ not _ spend all day making cookie crumbs, after all.

“Good call, actually.” He leaned over to speak close to Elodie’s ear. “Grab a plate, right? Put a couple of them on it. Then I’ll follow you back out there, and you can give Remus a second one, and I’ll reach out to pick mine up straight from the plate. Then I can explain to Remus what just happened, when it hops off?”

Elodie took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, of course. It’ll be so much easier to explain, then. I’m just a ball of worry, don’t mind me!”

“You’re amazing, Ellie. He sees that, I know he does. He just…” Sirius trailed off, unwilling or unable to explain Remus’s issues.

“Here we go, then,” Elodie said, reaching up for a plate and placing two of the cookies on it. Both of them stuck out a little bit over the sides.

“You would not  _ believe _ how long it took for her to pick the perfect one of these blasted things for you, Remus,” Sirius complained loudly as he followed her out into the living room.

“Another?” Elodie asked, holding out the plate. It was shaking a little, because she was shaking a lot.

“‘Twist my arm,’ I think the saying goes?” Remus said. He reached out a hand to steady the plate as he took one cookie with the other.

“My turn,” Sirius said. Then, with great ceremony that had Elodie almost,  _ almost _ calming down enough to roll her eyes at him, because he was just honestly  _ so _ ridiculous sometimes, Sirius reached out to pick up the remaining cookie on the plate.

He grabbed it quickly with one hand, tossing it like a hot potato onto his other outstretched hand. Where it sat, completely unmoving. Like any other cookie.

Elodie dropped the plate. Remus reached out and caught it, his werewolf reflexes making it look easy.

_ “What?” _ Sirius said, looking at the cookie on his hand. “Elodie?”

Elodie just stared. This was  _ impossible. _ Flat out not possible. 

“I--” her throat closed up, and she shook her head. She knew she hadn’t made them wrong. She’d read the troublecasting section in her book, in  _ multiple books. _ If the recipe failed,  _ no one _ could touch it. “Wait, just--” she broke off and ran into the kitchen and grabbed another cookie without ceremony. Then she ran back in and thrust it at Sirius.  _ “Take it!” _ she hissed at him. Sirius looked at her with such a confused expression that she just shook her head, grabbing his free hand with hers and placing the second cookie into it.

It did not hop, disappear, or do anything out of the ordinary.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked from his chair behind them, his mouth full again.

“I can’t--” Sirius started to say, but he shut his eyes for a brief second, went to the coffee table, and set down one of the two cookies she’d handed him. Then he walked over to the front door and walked straight outside without even shutting the door behind him. Elodie ran over to the door, and she watched him walk past his shed, still walking in a straight line. She pushed the door shut, her mind swirling with possible reasons for what had just happened.

“That was dramatic,” Remus said. He was standing, the plate she’d dropped still in his hand.

Elodie leaned against the front door. There were few realistic options, here, and the one that was staring her in the face right now was so unexpected that she clung to the other one. Suddenly, she stood up straight, and looked at Remus.

“I need to go to Hogwarts for a minute,” she said, decisively. She walked briskly past him into the kitchen, grabbing her wand to conjure up a transparent bag out of mid-air. She put a couple of the cookies into it, and then she turned around and walked straight up to the fireplace, tossing in a handful of Floo powder and announcing, “Office of the Headmaster, Hogwarts!’” before sticking her face into the fire.

“Albus, I need you, are you there?” she called out, immediately.

“Is that you, Elodie?” a woman’s voice answered. Then, a second later, Minerva McGonagall walked into Elodie’s line of sight.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but this is kind of a strange emergency,” Elodie said, wincing when she realized that Remus could still hear her.

“Of course, you can come right through,” Minerva assured her. “Albus?”

“As soon as you wish, my dear,” his voice sounded from where she knew his favorite bookshelf was, out of sight of the fireplace.

“Thanks!” she said, pulling her head up and away.

“You are acting like a massive catastrophe just happened, Elodie,” Remus said. She jumped in surprise when she saw he’d come over to stand beside her while she’d been fire talking.

“I can’t explain right now, Remus. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, okay?” Elodie said. She bit down hard on the inside of her lip to stop the tears that threatened from showing themselves, and without another word to him, she threw in another pinch of Floo powder and spoke her destination with a voice that shook with multiple strong emotions at once.

“I know, this is crazy, and I am not even sure how nuts I probably look, but can the two of you please,” Elodie blurted out in a rush, feeling like her words were tumbling over each other almost out of order in her desperation to prove herself wrong. “Please, trust me? Can you shut your eyes and hold out one hand? I’m just… I need to prove something, and if it works the way I think it should, we’ll all laugh about it in a minute.”

Albus had come down from his high desk, and Minerva came over to lay a gentle hand on Elodie’s arm.

“Even if you don’t want to tell us, please assure me you aren’t in danger, that someone isn’t hurting you?” Minerva said, her voice full of worry.

“No one is hurting me but myself, right now,” Elodie told her. “I did something that went a bit sideways. I am here to verify the outcome. Yes, that’s a good way to put it, verify. I just need you to touch something, and when nothing out of the ordinary happens, I’ll explain everything, all right?” Then, she turned to look at Albus, and she narrowed her eyes, only halfway teasing him when she said, “And you, don’t try to figure out what it is, okay?”

“I can’t promise anything, Elodie,” he said, smiling cheerfully, unmoved in the slightest by her hint of a threat.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Hands out, eyes closed?”

Both Albus and Minerva nodded, and when she came over with her baggie, Minerva gave her a motherly smile and turned her back, holding her hand out behind her. Elodie was touched. Albus, of course, did nothing of the sort, but he did shut his eyes. Somehow, he exuded impudence, even without his eyes to twinkle at her.

Elodie lifted out a cookie and when she reached out toward Minerva’s hand with it, she realized she was holding it tightly. Inwardly, she  _ expected  _ it to hop away.  _ Shit,  _ she thought to herself.  _ I don’t know what to do with this information! Shit! _

She reached out again, and when she brushed the cookie against Minerva’s hand, a surge of energy went through it, and it was such an unusual feeling that she let go. After one mighty hop, it seemed to implode, falling in on itself in little waves, until nothing was left.

Elodie forced herself to drop the second one into Albus’s waiting hand, and she wasn’t even surprised when she looked up at his face and met his eyes right as she did so. He spread his hand out to catch it, expecting the hop, just as Elodie did, now. He wasn’t fast enough, though, and as Elodie watched the bunny cookie implode in cascades again, she had the thought that Remus himself was probably the only person of her acquaintance who could catch the damned thing. He wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t have to, though.

Elodie had succeeded in making Gâteaufidél. She’d successfully proved how much she loved Remus Lupin.

She also loved Sirius Black, according to the same exact recipe.


	29. In Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus really is that clueless, and Sirius and Elodie have a chat.
> 
> [it's my birthday in a few days and gosh darnit, I LOVE this chapter. And the one after it. Enjoy!]

 

When Elodie Flooed back home, Remus was cleaning in the kitchen. He’d helpfully gathered up all of her cookies and conjured up a jar for them. Elodie had balked at buying the fancy traditional container that was always used for Gâteaufidél for many reasons. For one thing, it was very, very expensive. For another, the display value for the things had felt like a kind of gloating. She didn’t want to use them to convince him that she loved him and then set up a shrine to his being wrong in their very own kitchen, after all!

Now, as she stood in the doorway of that kitchen and watched Remus, seeing a smudge of flour on his forehead from where he usually brushed his hair back, she wondered if the simple glass cookie jar still felt like gloating. She’d looked for a foolproof way to show him how much she loved him. If she’d asked the Monkey’s Paw for a chance to prove to Remus that she cared, this would have been the result. It was a twisted and distorted reward, for all that it had been exactly what she’d asked for. Remus would absolutely know that short story, Elodie thought. He would appreciate the misery of it, too--had it been anyone else.

“Oh, you’re back. I cleaned up a bit for you, thought it might help?”

“You are perfect,” Elodie told him. “Sorry about all that,” she added, forcing a smile.

“Sirius came back in and shuffled through your books. He sat down with the big one and made some faces while he read it. Then he Vanished it and told me off when I asked him what was wrong,” Remus said, brushing his hair back and adding a second layer to the flour on his forehead. “I thought  _ you _ were upset, at first, but now I think he’s the one to worry about. Can you please give me at least an inkling of the issue?”

Elodie reached out and grabbed the teatowel from its hook on the wall and gestured at her own head with it. Then she handed it over.

“I thought I’d charmed the biscuits,” Elodie said, sidestepping the truth. “Sirius knew I’d planned to, and he was going to demonstrate it for me when, as you saw, nothing happened. I was upset, so I Flooed over to Hogwarts to see if they worked there.”

Remus grimaced in sympathy for her as he wiped off his forehead. “Nothing?”

“The cookies I took over did not react as I had hoped, no,” Elodie said, clearing her throat against the deceptive way the words felt as they came out. “At least the biscuits taste good though?” she offered, shrugging.

“They’re my new favorite,” Remus told her, grinning. “I didn’t want them to dry out or anything, so I even put a stasis charm on them in their jar. I hope you don’t mind.”

Elodie couldn’t help but smile at the irony. Remus had preserved them just as that recipe usually was preserved--with great care, held in a stasis charm created by their intended recipient. There was, however, the not so little matter of their  _ unintended _ recipient.

“I should go find Sirius,” she said. “Thanks for cleaning up after me.”

“It was absolutely no trouble, given what you went through to give me the best biscuits ever,” Remus said, sliding his hands into his pockets. He rested a hip against the counter and leaned over a bit, looking at her. “I think there’s more to what you’re upset over, but I will respect your prevarication, for now. I just wanted you to know I am not wholly fooled.”

Elodie felt a pang of loss. He was so quintessentially  _ Remus _ in that moment. “Duly noted, my friend.”

Her shoes were by the door, and Elodie slipped them on and grabbed her oversized knitted shawl, instead of a coat. Then, she went outside. Instead of directly looking for Sirius, she walked over to where she liked to stand and watch the little stream that helped irrigate the nearby fields. Something told her that Sirius would feel the need to come find her. After less than ten minutes, a quiet footfall behind her told Elodie she’d been right.

“I have a theory,” Sirius said, coming up behind her. Elodie didn’t turn around, and he didn’t move into her field of vision. “I think I could take that batch of biscuits over to the Weasley household and watch them all hop away, one by one. The recipe worked just as it was meant to, didn’t it?”

Elodie hugged her arms to herself and turned to see Sirius standing there looking more out of sorts than she’d ever seen before. His eyes were wild, dark and intent, and the late afternoon wind blew his shaggy hair around his head. He was still wearing the ripped shirt, flannel, and jeans from working on his motorcycle, and shockingly, his feet were bare. Whatever had happened in between the revelation in the kitchen and her following him outside had changed his calm shock into fierce agitation.

“Not  _ exactly _ as intended,” Elodie said, not without humor. This earned her a smile.

“I’m right, though,” Sirius persisted. She looked down at the rocks lining the creekbed, following a yellow leaf as it was pushed through the eddies of water. When Sirius spoke again, he had moved closer. “I found the book you got the recipe from,” he said. “I’m sure you already know that it’s not possible to make a mistake that results in that particular outcome.”

“Yes,” Elodie said. She didn’t let herself look at him; everything about Sirius was charged with emotional electricity, and the voltage got stronger with physical proximity. “It’s an aspirational recipe. One of the ones you dream of being able to get right, someday, if you want to be a Potion Master.”

“Like Wolfsbane,” Sirius said in a low voice.

“Yes,” Elodie repeated, this time nearly a whisper. Thinking of Remus was acutely painful. She wondered if that would ease up anytime soon, and doubted it. She needed to distract herself, and clung to the subject at hand as if to a lifeline, forcing a tone to her voice that mimicked a lecturer. “It’s over a thousand years old, that recipe. They used to use it as a fidelity test in the dark ages. Hundreds of years’ worth of Pureblood wives and daughters trained as Potions Masters, whether they wished to be or not. Just to prove their loyalty.”

“And not one of them had a result like yours.”

“I assume so.” The leaf had gotten stuck, and she stepped past Sirius and pulled it free of the rocks it was trapped between. Elodie smoothed the water away from it gently, the shocking cold helping in an odd way to calm her. She shook the water from her hand, and Sirius flinched as a drop or two landed on his foot. “I’m sorry,” she told him, finally feeling strong enough to make eye contact.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, the double meaning obvious. “Just tell me how that result could be possible when I’m certain you were every bit as surprised as I was.” As he spoke, he reached out and touched her shoulder, but she was pinned in place every bit as strongly by his expression. It was so like him--a jumble of emotions, all of them strong, every one gorgeous and wild. He looked determined, almost desperate, but underneath there was a confidence that Elodie felt the books had tried and somehow failed to bring forth. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it would have shone through more strongly if he’d been the main protagonist.

In that moment, Elodie realized just how accurate the blasted recipe had proven to be. She loved Remus, had done so long before she’d met him in actual, unbelievable reality, but Sirius had been a glorious surprise. A surprise, and yet somehow, inexorable. 

“It wasn’t  _ completely _ unexpected,” Elodie confessed. “I had no idea it was that strong, to have actually... ” she trailed off, suddenly finding it very important that he understand what she’d been thinking. Elodie reached over with her other hand and clasped it against his, which was still on her shoulder. “I need you to know: I wasn’t trying to create conflict. I wanted to show Remus--to  _ prove _ to him that I wasn’t just trying to take care of him, you know? That I care for him as more than, than what he called it, some kind of misguided hero worship!” She barely got out the last of it, overcome with the tears that had bubbled up from deep inside her.

“Oh, Ellie. Shhh.” Sirius said, folding her into his chest and petting her head soothingly. She had her face buried in her hands, but she could feel the tears dripping through them.

“All I seem to be able to do today is drip on you,” Elodie said, and she felt his laughter before she heard it. It was an intimacy that touched her in a profound way. The ache she felt in response told her that, unexpected or not, the feelings she had for him might be every bit as strong as the Gâteaufidél had implied they were. 

She knew she loved him as a friend, that she felt completely and utterly at ease with him, that she’d responded when he’d made her angry enough to kiss him back, under the enchanted mistletoe. What she hadn’t recognized was how close those fond emotions were to something more deep and lasting. The familiarity she’d felt joking around with him, the fierce way she was determined to keep him safe, those feelings could look ordinary, but in another context, they could also be seen as the bedrock under a different kind of structure entirely. Elodie thought about the tipping point she’d felt while in his bed; she remembered the light she’d seen in his eyes, how she’d instinctively known where it had the ability to lead. How had she missed this?

Elodie started to move back, unwilling to wipe her tear streaked face or hands on his shirt, and he gave her a little squeeze and released her. She settled on scrubbing her hands over her face and wiping them on her pants, realizing too late that she could have cast a spell to cleanse them. There she was, a Muggle imposter again! Sirius hadn’t noticed, though. His eyes had shuttered in an odd way, as though he had cut off the connection between his emotions and the expression of them.

“He thought it failed, love,” he told her. “I went looking for the recipe book that I’d seen you with, and when I came back through to go outside, he was sitting at the chair with a cup of tea and a pile of them. As if they were regular treats. He made a comment about being sorry they hadn’t done whatever trick you’d been expecting.”

Elodie sighed. “I know. I told him I’d been planning a potions trick, or something similar. I can’t remember exactly what I said it was.” She shrugged away the pain of lying to Remus and brushed her hair back away from her face. “Did you know he put them away?”

“Neat and tidy Remus,” Sirius said. “I assume it wouldn’t have the same effect if we sat him down and explained what you’d accomplished, now!” He let out a laugh that sounded more bitter than amused.

_ “God,” _ Elodie groaned. “Kill me now.” She turned slightly away from Sirius and tilted her head up to the sky, eyes shut, moving from side to side to loose the hair that had caught against the neckline of her shirt. When it was all free, she reached up to gather it all and twisted it to the side, enjoying the way the cool air chilled her. She’d spent too much of the past day hot, embarrassed, or angry.

“The sun is setting,” Sirius said softly. Elodie looked over at him and saw that he was staring at her. The spark of interest was written plainly on his face, and her heart began to pound. Had he ever looked at her in that way before? She was almost certain to have missed it, so focused on Remus as she’d been almost since the moment she’d woken to find herself in this time and place. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to remember that she didn’t belong here.

And there it was. Elodie caught her breath, feeling as though she’d just lit on a reason that might throw her conclusions sideways  _ yet again _ , as if she’d not been feeling adrift on a roiling sea enough as it was.

_ She didn’t belong here. _ More than that, her affection for both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin pre-dated her arrival by many months. How could an ancient spell possibly account for that?! 

“Uh oh,” Sirius said, his voice rich with both humor and feigned trepidation. She opened her eyes, surprised that she’d been so caught up in her realization that she’d shut them without really registering the loss of light. By the time she’d adjusted to it again, Sirius had turned and started for a section of larger boulders. He yelled at her over his shoulder. “Come on, I know a long conversation when I see one brewing.”

His amusement was infectious, and Elodie stood still, just watching him for a minute. She whispered to herself, “Lord help me, I really might love that man.” When she jogged over to where he’d settled, she found him sprawled up on a rock that placed him, seated, at nearly at her head height.

“You’re wearing Rationalizing Face,” Sirius said, lifting his eyebrows dramatically. “No, before you start into it, you need to listen to me,” he added as soon as she’d taken a breath to speak. “Did you look for that spell specifically to bake proof of your love for Remus into something indisputable?”

“I--” Elodie started, defensive. Then, she gave up. “Yes.”

“You researched the  _ shit _ out of it, didn’t you?” he asked then, grinning at her impudently.

“Yes.” Elodie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t let herself elaborate on her one word answer.

“The entire point of finding  _ that _ recipe was to cut off any arguments against the truth of your feelings, yeah?”

She could see where he was going with this, and while his points were logical, he didn’t have all of the facts. Before she could tell him this, however, Sirius spoke again, sitting up and leaning forward, which placed them only about a foot apart from each other.

“So, you’re infuriated that Remus managed to dodge your Bludger, given that he’s seen me pick the damned things up, right?” Elodie didn’t nod, but she knew he’d see her narrowed eyes as confirmation that he was on the right track. “How can you be mad at  _ him _ when you’re every bit as blind to it as he is!” Sirius held both hands out beside him as if the conclusion was obvious. It kind of was, and when he voiced it, she felt the truth in her heart, even though she was resisting like hell with her mind.

“Elodie,  _ I can touch them. _ If you see them as proof of your love for him, you need to see them as proof of your love for  _ me.” _

He’d completely outmaneuvered her. Elodie would read a 12 book series based on the life and times of Sirius Black in a motherfucking heartbeat.

She also made the decision right then that she was going to tell him the truth. The whole batshit, unbelievable, inconceivable truth. If fate wanted to turn her life upside down and give her this insane gift, then she’d take that gift and give it back to herself in the form of Sirius Black’s face when she told him exactly where she came from, and what she knew.

“You have a good point there,” she said to him, the ‘but’ completely evident in her tone of voice.

“--and now you’re going to dismantle that good point thoroughly and completely, and when you’re done I’ll somehow be convinced you’re right, because that is pure Elodie, right there,” Sirius said. “I’ll listen to you, but before you do that, c’mere.”

She couldn’t not smile, because he was right, and the very fact that he knew her well enough to  _ be _ right warmed her from the inside out. Elodie stepped forward at his insistence, and Sirius straightened up and angled his body toward her, pushing her wind-tousled hair away from her face.

“Bear with me, here,” he said. Then, just as she realized what he was doing, he leaned in and kissed her, the brief brushing of lips stunning her with its sweetness. It was full of  _ sincerity _ , as if Sirius was afraid that he’d lose his chance to do it once she’d elaborated her point. Elodie couldn’t help but lift her hand to brush his own hair back from where it had fallen to tickle her cheek, feeling the warmth of him and thrilling to the realness of it. It was very hard to think clearly with such a force of nature to contend with. 

“Now, go on, destroy me with logic,” he said. He lifted a hand and pressed his fingers to his own lips for a fraction of a second, as if he were savoring the feel of her, and it was almost drugging to watch.

“You totally know how logic-destroying what you just did is, you… you--” Elodie said, putting her hands on her hips and trying to scowl at him.

“Dastardly criminal?” he prompted, lolling back on his rock. “Rakish root of all evil?”

He was joking, deflecting in that way he had, but it reminded Elodie of what she had planned to say.

“All of those things, definitely,” she said, raising an impudent eyebrow. “Just hold onto that confidence, Black, because this? This is going to sound absolutely batshit insane.”

Sirius’s great barking laugh echoed across the meadow behind them, and for a split second, Elodie felt a pang of fear that Remus would hear him and make assumptions. Possibly accurate assumptions, at that. She shook the thought off and firmly set her affection for the werewolf aside, compartmentalizing out of sheer necessity.

Besides, this conversation was going to be  _ fun. _

She looked at Sirius, who’d calmed down only slightly, his shoulders still shaking with mirth. Deliberately, Elodie let all of her myriad affection for him, both fictional and real, glow on her face. 

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“The more you set it up, the more I’m going to expect out of you, Ellie,” he told her. She just raised both eyebrows, and Sirius smiled, the expression full of genuine affection, more than enough to make her heart flutter. “All right, Merriman. Bring it.”

“First things first, then,” Elodie said, her mind racing in spite of her outward confidence. Where to start?! Then, it came to her. “You are innocent.”

Sirius leaned forward, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Mind blowing.”

“Bear with me,” she said, mirroring his earlier comment. “Last year, you spent a lot of time trying to get into Hogwarts. You even had the passwords to Gryffindor Tower, at one point.”

“Not common knowledge, but not secret, either,” Sirius said, leaning back on his hands.

“You were looking for somebody. It wasn’t Harry, though. It was Scabbers.”

One of Sirius’s hands slipped, but he kept his facial expression steady.

“You’d tried to get at Scabbers before, but luckily for you, when you finally caught him, Remus was there to stop you from killing him. So was Harry, Hermione, and Ron,” Elodie continued.

“Remus definitely told you at least some of that,” Sirius said, but he stopped reclining, rubbing at his palms as though the rough rock had hurt them. It came off more as a defensive gesture, though, and Elodie could tell he was starting to become unnerved.

“He’d forgotten his Wolfsbane, though, and Snape got the better of you. You offered Harry a place to live with you, once your name was cleared, but Peter got away, didn’t he? While everyone was distracted by Remus’s transformation? You never got to clear your name that night, or tell everyone  _ how _ he’d framed you.” Elodie could practically hear her own heartbeat, and she felt a little sick at the look on Sirius’s face. He’d only known her for less than a year, and here she was telling him things that not even Remus would probably have divulged to her. She stepped up against the boulder and reached out, almost close enough to touch him, and her heart nearly stopped when he raised his own hand to stop her.

“Go on,” he said, his voice barely more than shovel dragging along gravel.

“This part, Remus couldn’t have told me, unless you told him,” Elodie said, her hand still held out toward him as if reassuring him that she wasn’t on the attack. “The Dementors wanted your soul, and you were locked up. That’s where you got Buckbeak, when Hermione and Harry came to get you. It was a Time Turner, that’s how they got there so quickly--Hermione had been using it all year, for class. Did she ever tell you that? I don’t really know if you ever got a chance to talk to her much, afterwards. Things went wrong, and Harry had to cast a Patronus to protect you. It was a stag, just like James’s animagus form.”

A lot of the color had drained from Sirius’s face during her last few sentences. Putting as much compassion and caring as she could into her facial expression, Elodie turned her hand palm up. After a long moment, he reached up and grasped it, and she was proud of herself that she didn’t wince at the crushing strength of his grip. Slowly, she leaned close enough to rest her hip beside their clasped hands, smiling at him before speaking again.

“Please don’t think any of your friends have betrayed your confidence, Sirius. They haven’t. The reason I know is… well, it’s fantastical. More fantastical than hippogriffs and wandless magic, even.”

“Why do I have this sudden fear you might wink out of existence, once you tell me?” Sirius asked, his voice barely above a whisper. She felt the movement as he scooted closer to her on their rock.

“That’s a possibility, come to think of it,” Elodie said. “But if I didn’t wink out of existence the first time I lifted a wand and actually cast a real, honest to goodness spell, I think we’re safe.”

“That was what, twenty years ago?” Sirius objected. “I suppose I didn’t really think about whether or not you went to Hogwarts, instead of a school in America.”

“I didn’t.” Elodie gave him a wry smile and shook her head. “And it wasn’t 20 years. It was just under a half a year ago, now.”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” she told him. “I don’t really know if there’s a wealth of magical literature, but, have you read anything Muggle? Do you know about Middle Earth?”

“My mother hated all things Muggle, so yes, I read a lot of Muggle books during my Hogwarts years,” Sirius said.

“Ah, your mother! Man, I wonder if with the house abandoned, the curtains are over her awful portrait or not?” Elodie mused, completely forgetting about what that kind of revelation would do to Sirius.

His hand holding hers yanked, and to keep her balance, Elodie had to turn towards him and throw her other hand out to catch herself on the boulder. He’d pulled her hand over his own heart, pressing her palm there, and she could feel it pounding away like a jackhammer. He looked actually frightened, but not as much  _ of _ her than of the unknown power of her knowledge.

“That was thoughtless. I am exceptionally sorry, you dear, dear man,” Elodie gasped out, stumbling over the apology through the frantic beating of her own heart. 

“Please,” Sirius begged, simply.

“Explain. Yes, yes. Right, and maybe a little less with the telling of impossible secrets, even,” Elodie said, her back starting to ache with the odd angle she was being held to, given his hand’s deathgrip on hers. She had absolutely no intention of moving, however. “Maybe quickly, like with a bandage?” Without waiting for an indication from Sirius, she pressed on. “You’re a character. In a book. The whole world--the magic, the threat, the people, you’re all come alive for me. I’m like Alice, and you are my Wonderland.”

Elodie screwed her eyes shut and  _ hoped _ . When she opened them, Sirius was looking at her, eyes wide, but not disturbingly so.

“So one day, 16 year old Sirius Black wakes up a member of the Rohirrim? Gets to learn to fight alongside Eowyn and falls in love with her?”

Elodie felt such a vast sense of relief that she could nearly taste it, metallic but completely welcome, in her mouth. It had to be the adrenaline.

“You actually aren’t the main character in the story, but you  _ should _ be, Sirius Orion Black. You are a complete wonder,” she told him in awe. 

“I understand  _ what _ you’re saying, and I admit it explains why you know certain things you shouldn’t,” Sirius said, sounding dubious.

“--but it’s still a ridiculous notion, even to a man who uses a wand and built a motorcycle that can fly?” Elodie finished for him.

“Essentially, yes,” he said, reaching over to massage her captive hand with both of his. The way he swept his thumbs across the meat of her palm was incredibly distracting. “Tell me something else you couldn’t know?” He said this in a hushed voice, as though he expected some sort of consequence for daring to ask it.

Elodie thought about the question, closing her eyes and indulging in the joy of feeling his touch, after being so anxious and uncomfortable and above all, concerned for him. She wanted to pick something that didn’t carry a lot of weight, plot-wise. What would Harry and Sirius both know? Then, she thought of something.

“The Marauder’s Map insults people who touch it and don’t unlock it with the right catchphrase. ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’”

Sirius’s hands stilled. “Another,” he said, less hushed, now.

“There was an incident, when you were at Hogwarts,” Elodie said, deciding that ancient history was safer than seeming to predict the future. “One of your fellow students almost found out about Remus, after being told there was a secret to be found under the Whomping Willow tree.”

She was afraid to look up at him, fearful of his possible reaction, but he hadn’t thrust her away from him. Would he? Was he just waiting for her to--

“Ellie,” his voice rumbled. “How much did you see?” Elodie looked up at him, full of confusion, and he spoke again, sounding and looking deeply concerned. “Of Azkaban,” he whispered.

“ _ Ohh _ ,” Elodie breathed. She disentangled her hand from his and reached up, cupping his face with her hands on either side. “Hardly anything, and that was quite enough. They’re Harry’s books, love,” she told him, unconsciously mirroring his favorite endearment.

“That makes an odd sort of sense, actually,” Sirius said, his voice sounding as haunted as the look in his eyes. Elodie could feel hers filling with tears. How negligent was she as a friend, to manage to forget the trauma this man had gone through mere months before she’d met him?

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice, lowering her hands to rub them at her upper arms. “It just hit me, that you’d been through such abject misery and I  _ knew _ that, and I’ve just treated you like any other friend--”

“It was perfect. Both of you have been perfect,” Sirius objected. “Remus, I think, has been doing his best to treat me like the friend I never stopped being, as a way of apologizing for doubting me for so long. And you,” he stopped, and when she looked back up at him, she understood that he’d been waiting for her to make eye contact. “You were this bright, happy, warm presence. After that long nightmare of cold horror, you reminded me about the sunrise, and spicy food, and what it was like to sit and laugh with friends. That it was possible to wake up in the morning to the smell of bacon, and for that to be  _ real _ .”

“That’s far too much credit. You’re a natural flatterer, Sirius,” Elodie objected. “Admit it, a good deal of your drive has been about Harry. And Peter.”

“I associate you with the good things. You, Remus, and Harry,” Sirius said, undaunted. “If it weren’t for the three of you, I’d be consumed by revenge.” His brows furrowed and he added, “Is… have you read far enough to-- My…  _ character _ \--”

“Is every bit as vibrant and interesting standing in front of me as he ever was in the books, only more so, now that I’ve gotten to know you,” Elodie reassured him. “Sirius Black in the book series never strayed from being a champion of the good side, don’t worry. Though, he definitely has a ‘bad boy’ vibe. All leather and attitude.”

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius said with relief. “I assume another of your favorite characters is Remus?” Elodie blushed, and was about to respond when he stopped her. “It’s as clear as day, Ellie. I shouldn’t have teased you.”

“The books are about Harry’s years at Hogwarts,” Elodie said, “So Harry, Ron, Hermione, Albus, Professor McGonagall, they’re the focus. And… You Know Who.”

“So the Wizarding War. The second one.”

“Yes. The Map was a key plot point during Remus’s year there, and so was your escape. The big scene in the Shrieking Shack at the end of the book is part of what made me care so much about the two of you,” Elodie said, closing her eyes to remember. Now, she could picture them as they really looked, having met the ‘Golden Trio’ and quite a few Weasleys. “I remember just feeling hungry for every scrap of information I could find to read about you two.” 

Sirius looked thoughtful, now. “Now, I understand your confidence with that Fidelity potion. So your argument right now is,” he said, leaning forward to speak directly in her ear, his warm breath causing her hair to tickle her neck. “That because you loved my  _ character _ , in this book series, that somehow that means how you feel  _ now _ is less honest?” She felt his legs move, one sliding past to bracket her between them. “How, in either universe, could that be possible?” he said, speaking the words in a hushed voice.

Elodie spent a monumental amount of her allotment of inner strength to move her head away from his and look him straight in the eyes. 

“What other explanation could there be, Sirius? Don’t get me wrong, I’m.. I’m  _ swept away _ by you,” she admitted. “But you can’t possibly understand the length and breadth of my affection for the books and certain characters. Albus and Minerva couldn’t pick up those biscuits, but for all I know, Hermione Granger could!”

She should have realized by now how his brain worked.

“But, you’ve read them all by now, right? And you said it’s about Harry’s years at Hogwarts, so probably seven years--seven books. So technically,  _ your _ Hermione is an adult. My  _ MY _ , Elodie,” Sirius said, chuckling at her.

“Stoooop!” Elodie said, leaning over and burying her head in his chest. His laughter shook them both.

“But am I wrong?” he persisted.

“No, but, my  _ point _ !” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt.

“Have I actually out-logicked Elodie?” Sirius asked in mock incredulity. 

“No!” she protested, pushing at his chest to straighten herself back up. “You’re fighting my logic with ridiculousness! My point wasn’t about attraction at all!”

At this, Sirius’s expression turned sober. “So, you’re not attracted to me?”

“Oh, I definitely am. God help me,” Elodie said, at that moment realizing exactly how closely they were standing, nearly hip to hip. “But that’s the material point, Sirius. I hadn’t realized how much. That recipe is usually--scratch that,  _ always _ made by married women. Women committed to the man they’ve made them for.”

“Well, I’m all about breaking convention,” Sirius interjected.

“You! Let go of your ego for a minute!” Elodie said, grabbing him by his upper arms and almost, but not quite shaking him.

“You’re not the only one distracted, Ellie,” he said. “But, I’m sorry.”

“I guess I’m saying I’m flattered. And tempted,” she told him.

“But devastatingly in love with Remus,” he finished for her.

“Yes. For all the good it does,” Elodie said, blinking her eyes against the onslaught of images from just a half hour earlier, when Remus hadn’t even realized what she’d shown him.

“So go for it,” Sirius said, belaying his words by the gentle way he brushed a tear from her cheek.

“You are very confusing,” Elodie said, before she could stop herself. Sirius laughed at that, a genuinely joyous laugh that brought a smile to her face, despite her confusion and unhappiness.

“I told my brother this once: ‘Do what’s right.’ The harder it is to do what’s right, the more likely it was the right choice, whether it’s papering my bedroom with half-naked Muggle women, or confronting Peter Pettigrew in an alley.”

“Oh, Sirius,” she said, her heart aching for what he’d gone through.

“You should try again. Explain about the recipe,” Sirius said. There was something about his tone of voice that made Elodie wonder if there was something he wasn’t saying. It was less passionate and more precise, something that felt wrong to her. At the same time, the substance of what he was saying was so consequential that she got caught up in the words, and set aside her reservations about his affect.

“So… what? Go to him and tell him I’ve baked my heart into a cookie and he’s dissolved it away in his tea like it means nothing?” Elodie said, her voice cracking a bit on the last word.

“Maybe something more like, ‘Gâteaufidél showed me I have a choice. I choose you,’” Sirius countered. He pushed his arms against the rock and half jumped, half slid his lower body up so that he was sitting on the top of it instead of leaning against it. She missed his warmth immediately.

“I don’t think I could take it if he’s actually not interested. I really don’t even want to imagine how that would feel,” Elodie said.

“If he’s not interested, you can come cry on my shoulder. Then, I’ll make you feel better.” Sirius said, with waggling eyebrows and a smile so bright she was sure it could be seen from space.

“Sirius!” Elodie blushed, completely embarrassed by his clear implication. 

“Ellie, in all honesty…” he started to say, but stopped. When she could finally bring herself to look at him, it was with both hands still mostly covering her burning face. “I said to do what’s right. So that’s what I’m trying to do, but this?” he gestured with his hand, back and forth between the two of them. “This is  _ also _ right. I am happy to sit back and let Remus be happy, if he can let himself. He deserves to be happy. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to be honest with you.”

Elodie was overwhelmed, but she was still coherent enough to start to protest that Sirius deserved to be happy, too. Her hands flew indignantly on her hips and the words were poised to be spoken when he stopped her with a calloused finger held firmly to her lips.

The touch was every bit as electric as his brief kiss had been earlier. Her eyes drifted closed. Everything about Sirius demanded a person’s full attention, and even then, he was a whirlwind. Here, he had all but told her to confess her love to Remus, while at the same time, just the touch of his finger was enough to stop her breath for the intensity of how it felt.

“Don’t overthink it, Ellie. Just go tell him.” With Sirius’s finger still resting against her lips, and his words whispered in her ear, she knew that if she opened her eyes, she’d see him leaning his entire body toward her, his face close enough for her to turn toward him and kiss him despite what he had just said.

And yet, Remus. Her brave, self-sacrificing Remus, whose intelligence was ignored by basically everyone in his society, simply because he’d been attacked by a monster when he was a child. Attacked, and turned into that monster in the eyes of the most of the people who had power to help or hurt him. Remus, who stood like he felt like he was too tall, hands in his pockets as he discussed magical history, or Muggle authors, or the virtues of different brands of chocolate. What wouldn’t she give to see him look at her the way Sirius had, before he’d kissed her?

Elodie stood still, feeling the tension ebb away from Sirius. Finally, she nodded.

“Good night, Ellie,” he whispered to her. She thought he might have kissed her shoulder, but it could have been a brush of his hand as he climbed down from the boulder.

She didn’t hear his footsteps as he walked away from her, but for some reason, Elodie was sure he’d transformed into his animagus form. There was something about the way the ground sounded that was different underneath human footfalls. She waited until she was sure he had moved far enough away before she finally opened her eyes, the unshed tears that her eyelids had been holding back falling in large drops on her hands as she lifted them to cover her mouth.

 


	30. Turned Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie goes for a walk before her planned talk with Remus about how she feels. When she comes back, Sirius intercepts her with a talk of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kermit arms*

 

Remus had a book of ancient charms on his lap when she walked back into the house.

“Hey,” he said, in greeting. The casualness of it didn’t appear studied, but Remus didn’t usually speak as imprecisely as that, so it felt like an indicator that he was feeling a bit more loosely held together than normal.

“Hey,” she echoed. Elodie thought about grabbing something to drink, but decided she just wanted to curl up on the couch with a blanket.

“Was he upset?”

She looked over at Remus and shook her head. “No. Without betraying confidences, I’d say that there was some symbolism in the failed charm I tried, today, and it brought up some stuff.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it felt appropriate for now. 

“Well, ordinarily I wouldn’t look to subject you to two difficult conversations in a row, but it occurred to me to ask you something,” Remus said, charming the ink on his notes dry and placing the page inside the book he was reading. “Do you think it’s possible that Sirius feels about you the same way you say you feel about me?”

Elodie’s breath caught. “That’s-- Give me a minute?” she said, immediately.

The problem was that she had started to wonder about that to a much lesser extent, in the past weeks. She’d brushed the thoughts away, mostly because they were quite honestly  _ inconvenient,  _ but also because judging Sirius Black on his behavior compared to anyone else’s behavior was always going to be hopeless. He was overly affectionate, flirty to the extreme, and had zero understanding of the concept of personal space. 

“I mean,” Elodie added, “I don’t know how I’d be able to  _ tell,” _ she said, raising her eyebrows and looking at Remus. He was gazing down at the cover of his book, but when he looked up at her, she hardened her expression. “I also don’t want to accuse you of trying to fob me off, but…” she let her voice trail off.

“I just want  _ someone _ to be happy,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Correction,” Elodie said, holding up a hand. “Someone  _ other than you _ to be happy.”

“I am happy here. I don’t appreciate the accusation,” Remus said, looking at her like she’d hurt his feelings.

Elodie was tired of putting herself at an artificial distance from Remus. She felt like the Gâteaufidél had actually ended up extending that distance, rather than eliminating it.  _ Perhaps it’s time to go full ‘Tonks’ on this situation,  _ she thought to herself. Maybe he needed to hear a big, grand, persuasive argument. Impulsively, before her tentative plan had really been fully formed in her head, she decided to implement it.

“I like when you’re happy, Remus. I have an idea,” she said, her voice soft and fond.

She knew she’d made the right decision when Remus looked nervous. Offering to make a man happy should not make him nervous.

“I don’t want you to worry that I’m always going to turn a pleasant conversation into a chance to push you past your boundaries,” she told him. “I tell you what: I will bring up my love for you in conversation only once more, okay? No more ambushes, no more snide comments that make the smile fall off of your face.” Elodie stood up and crossed the room, holding her hand out to him. “I promise, just one more time. Then, no matter the outcome, we can go back to building our relationship, no matter what that looks like. You’re too important to me not to.”

Remus blinked at her, first looking confused, but after a few seconds, a relieved smile spread over his face. He stood up and took her hand in his.

“I want you to know that I don’t like having to disappoint you, either. Your friendship is very valuable. I’ve been… worried about how best to handle this,” he admitted.

The handshake ended. “Study up on your arguments, Remus, because I’m going to be fierce,” she told him giving him a serious, affectionate look. Then, she let go and headed back to her couch.

When she’d settled back into her seat, Remus was still standing there, looking lost in thought. She liked the idea that she might have made him question himself even a little bit, with her determination.

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Sirius didn’t end up coming back inside before Elodie went to bed. He came out of his room late the next morning and stood in the hallway to look at both Elodie and Remus as if he expected she had magically convinced Remus to adore her some time in the past twelve hours. The thought made her laugh so hard she started coughing, and both men ended up looking at her like she was crazy.

She waved them off. “Ever just catch the giggles?” she asked them, in a roundabout explanation for her outburst.

Remus groaned and got up to put a book away on the shelves near Elodie’s end of the couch. “James would get them in Transfiguration, because Sirius liked to pretend he had a crush on Minerva,” he said. He laid an arm on one of the bookshelves and actually rested his head on it for a minute.

“It was  _ not _ pretending. I loved that woman. None of you ever understood,” Sirius said, sniffing in mock disdain.

“Oh, Sirius! Poor Minerva!” Elodie exclaimed. “You didn’t hurt her feelings, I hope?”

“Oh, I hurt her feelings just by being a reckless Gryffindor, Elodie,” Sirius said in a regretful tone. “She deserved better, did Minnie.”

Remus, whose head was still buried in his arm at the bookshelf, let out a squeak at this. Elodie couldn’t tell if he was laughing or hiding out of sheer second-hand embarrassment.

“Good God, Sirius, do you ever let up?” Elodie asked in a voice that was half impressed, half exasperated.

“Only once so far,” he said, gazing at her with an intense expression. With Remus still faced away, only Elodie could see him. She wanted to look away, but she felt fixed in place as he looked at her. There was a lot of weight to that look, maybe even a promise, but Elodie didn’t feel very brave as she stood up, breaking eye contact.

“Well, speaking of ‘letting up’ for once, I need to take a walk to gather my thoughts,” Elodie said, starting for the basement door. “I’m going to dress warm, I want to grab some of the local plants for some potions, too.”

Remus lifted his head. “So you’re making plans to… talk later?” he asked. It was clear he was trying to be discreet about the question. She thought he might be hiding some anxiety, as well, but when he spoke again before she could answer him, she understood his hesitation. “I have a meeting with Minerva and Albus this evening, after the dinner hour at Hogwarts. He has told me there are a few things I might be able to do for the Order--”

“It’s at least a little bit democratic though, right? He can’t decide to send you somewhere dangerous without the rest of us in the loop?” Elodie interrupted, thinking about werewolf camps. She jammed her clenched fists in her jeans pockets, despite the fact that they didn’t quite fit in there.

“Even if it wasn’t the sort of group where we’re all in on bigger decisions like that, I am not the kind of person who simply  _ receives _ orders,” Remus said, mildly. “My primary focus right now is Harry and the Tournament, and to be quite frank, if Albus doesn’t recognize that, he’s not in the right mind to  _ issue _ orders.”

“Thank you, Remus, that’s encouraging,” Elodie said. Before he could respond, though, she opened the basement door and jogged down the stairs, cramming one of her still fisted hands in her mouth to stop herself from crying out of worry. She intended to prevent Remus’s assignment to the werewolf camps, as she saw them as an integral part of his emotional degeneration as a character. To derail that path, though, she needed a bit more authority than ‘close friend and brewer of Wolfsbane.’ 

She wanted to show Albus and the Order that there was danger coming, and then prove it by being integral to unmasking the hidden Death Eater in their midst. That would give her the credibility she needed. This task was in its infancy yet, though. She wondered if she’d ever get an owl from either of the Weasley twins, or if they hoped to see her at Christmas. Even though she knew they would eventually be responsible shop owners, she figured the latter was more likely.

Elodie walked over to her window and reached up to place a hand on the glass, gauging the outside temperature. The sun was at the other side of the house at this hour of the morning, so she added a few degrees to her mental estimate, but it felt seasonable. She changed her long-sleeved shirt for a thinner one, donned a sweater on top of it, and left her trousers as they were. Her light winter coat was one of her very few wizardly luxuries; the coat came with charms that kept it warm based on the ambient temperature, similar to the wand-tap wards that they’d created for the werewolf cage, but these were more simple. She’d read the manual (that had been a trip in and of itself--a magical coat with a  _ manual? _ ) that had explained how to deactivate or enhance the charms, so she was ready to lower the heat if she got too warm walking.

Remus wasn’t in sight when she came back up, but Sirius was still lurking in the kitchen.

“A bit cryptic, earlier?” He said it as a question, and she knew what he meant.

“Letting up, you mean? I told Remus I’d only bring up caring about him one more time, one last shot at trying to persuade.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it there as he said, “That’s a gamble.”

“It’s a gamble worth taking, to be honest. I like him as a person, separate from everything else, and I can’t let myself be the cause of that face he’s starting to make at the start of every conversation with me.” Elodie made a wincing, anxious face for a few seconds, and then relaxed back to her normal expression. “I don’t want to be a nag. I also don’t want to chase away everything I like about our friendship just to be ‘right.’”

She and Sirius had walked toward the front door during their conversation, and as they stood facing each other in front of the front door, Elodie saw his eyes flick over to a spot behind her, and then back. Remus was probably standing there, and Elodie had just done what she’d promised she wouldn’t do: remind Remus, at their every meeting, that she had expectations of him that he wasn’t comfortable with.

She let Sirius think he’d been too subtle for her and reached up to squeeze his shoulder. “Okay, I’m off, I don’t know if I’ll be back for lunch or not. If not, I’ll just eat late.”

She’d conjure a basket if she needed it, Elodie told herself as she slipped out the front door while putting on her coat. The sun was warm despite the typical December chill, and even though she could have, Elodie didn’t look back to see whether anyone was standing at the picture window to see her leave.

8888888888888888

The plant Elodie had been looking for was a tiny flower that was only useful if it had been allowed to wither in place, because it was the combination of the mites that ate the drying leaves and the residue they created which made Vallacaire plant useful. When she had left the house, she’d acted as though she was going to get exercise, but looking for the damned things was actually a slow, meticulous process. It was also perfect thinking time, and Elodie definitely needed to do that.

On her walk to the copse of trees, she considered her options for talking to Remus that day. She thought maybe she should ask Remus to come into the kitchen while she preserved any Vallacaire she might find, but Elodie realized that would give both of them far too many chances to prevaricate and avoid. No, she should stick to a living room conversation, though trying to imagine how to bring up the Gâteaufidél was going to be tricky.

Elodie found a withered plant that looked really similar to her book illustration, and she pulled a page from her pocket. She’d made a magical copy, and when she held it up beside her possible Vallacaire, she saw that it matched pretty accurately.

“I made a copy with magic and I didn’t even need to pay five cents! Too bad neither one of them would probably get the joke,” she said aloud. She shook her head. “Wizards.”

As she folded up her copy and placed it back in her pocket, Elodie wondered what might happen if she just offered Remus a book with the Gâteaufidél recipe in it. The problem was, her two best books with the recipe inside them had sections about fakes in the very front, explaining how to recognize them and why they were important. Remus was  _ Remus, _ he was going to want to start at the beginning, and the last thing she wanted to make him think about today was the idea of faking it.

By the time she was done gently gathering her stalks of Vallacaire, she’d been out for two hours. If she hurried, she’d get back to Phoenix House in time to eat lunch, but not in time to  _ make _ lunch. If she wanted to make lunch, she’d have to Apparate, and that just was not worth it. She wasn’t emotional, but she was antsy. By tonight, she will have taken her last shot at persuading Remus to live their meadow relationship in their everyday lives…  _ without _ the fairy dust to ease the transition.

She heard a low rumble sound coming from the shed as she passed it, which told her that Sirius was working in there. This would leave Remus alone in the house for her to talk to. Elodie’s steps slowed as she came closer to the house. She walked along the garden fencing and tried to steady her breathing, but the closer she got to the house, the more anxious she felt. Soon, she stood completely still, staring up at the big window, trying to gather her Gryffindor courage. Suddenly, her charmed coat was too hot, even with the warming spells disabled. She took it off and miniaturized it, putting it in the basket. The long-sleeved shirt she was wearing and the sweater over it were warm enough for now.

Maybe the December air would prompt her to stop worrying about what to say and just go inside and say it.

As she had struggled to extract each Vallacaire root with as little damage to the withered plant structure above it as she could, Elodie had not missed the symbolism there. Vallacaire was a perennial plant. It would come up, year after year, unless someone did what she had done and ripped out its roots to harvest it. What Elodie wanted to do with Remus was to preserve his root structure--the parts that made him Remus, while taking away what she saw as his old-fashioned views on relationships (and werewolves, for that matter). He shouldn’t have to see himself as old and poor. Those were the kind of opinions she’d be happy to dig out. The problem was, Elodie couldn’t just use logic. She had a clear stake in changing his mind, an  _ emotional  _ stake.

When emotions were involved, though, Remus always seemed to shut down. She didn’t blame him; from the glimpses she’d gotten from him mentioning his mother, it seemed that Remus’s childhood had involved a lot of negative experiences with emotions. He’d implied that his mother had only touched him when she was too angry to be afraid of him, for one--and now he seemed like he was poised to entirely reject Elodie herself because  _ he _ was afraid. Remus had left his childhood home to go to Hogwarts and be given love in abundance from his friends at Hogwarts, only to lose all of them in just about the most painful and heart-wrenching way possible. That he was emotionally available enough to show any affection to his housemates was a miracle, and she welcomed every shoulder squeeze, perfectly prepared tea mug, and genuine smile he was capable of offering. 

The thing was, she knew him. She  _ knew _ him, in a way he could never understand (and that she would never tell him about). Her understanding of his character led her to conclude long ago that his excuses to Tonks hadn’t really been about their suitability. He was unwilling to allow anyone to attach themselves to someone as broken and damaged as he saw himself to be. When she was honest with herself, Elodie knew that she was clinging a little too tightly to the fact that Nymphadora Tonks had managed to  _ persuade _ Remus to be with her. There were circumstances in their relationship that weren’t ‘on camera’ for the books, not to mention that Bill’s attack had been a major factor. Those things were all missing for Elodie. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t see herself as all that similar to Tonks personally. Maybe she wasn’t his type, in the end? Was his future with Tonks really Elodie’s to change?

Was her happiness worth a world without Teddy Lupin?

Strangely, her own predicament made this answer a slippery one, because of her very existence in this universe. How many possibilities were out there? Were there universes where Remus was too stubborn to allow a relationship with Tonks?  _ Could this be one of them? _ But if it was, what hope did  _ she _ have, then?

_ ‘Do the right thing _ ,’ Sirius had said to her. Anyone who truly knew Remus Lupin knew he deserved every happiness. Wasn’t that exactly what Sirius had meant when he said he would ignore the attraction he and Elodie shared? That Remus deserved that chance?

“All right, stop putting it off,” Elodie told herself out loud. Just as she spoke, she saw movement in the cottage window. Remus must have made a new mug of tea for himself; she could see steam wafting from it as he stopped to look out the window. She smiled at him and lifted her basket to show him the herbs she’d picked. His genuine smile in response melted her heart. Remus had started to look less bedraggled shortly after he’d started to live at the cottage with her and Sirius. The slightly rumpled academic look was baked in, though, and she  _ loved _ it. Even his smiles seemed more relaxed than they had when she’d first met him at Hollyfield House.

“You’re staring,” Sirius said, behind her. Elodie whirled around to swat at him, but he evaded her easily, as always. This time he did it with the aid of his motorcycle; when she turned and tried to smack him, he’d leaned back and and gone airborne, flying in a tight curve overtop of her head, just out of reach. By the time she glanced back at the window, Remus had walked away.

When Sirius flew back down and landed a few feet away, he looked smug.

“Now  _ that’s _ a white horse,” she said. To her surprise, Sirius’s face fell.

“Men like me don’t get the white horse,” he said darkly.

“Woah, where did that--” Elodie started to say.

“Just-- I need to tell you something,” he said, interrupting her. He turned off his motorcycle and cast a spell to freeze it in a protective bubble. Ordinarily Elodie would have complained that her garden was not the place to store machinery, but he seemed really out of sorts. “I take it back. I was wrong,” he said enigmatically, coming over to stand in front of her and taking the basket from her hands to place it on the ground beside them. 

He was a picture of conflict--he looked like he’d been in a physical fight with the motorcycle, with his clothes oily and ripped, his hands clenched into fists, and his hair wild and unkempt. He didn’t seem affected by the cold at all.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tightly wound,” she told him. “Wrong about what? Sirius, let me--” She’d been about to say ‘get you cleaned up,’ but he shook his head, eyes glittering with intensity. This was another instance of her being able to see what had gotten him sent to Azkaban. Add incoherent screaming and thrashing around to the man in front of her and she honestly wouldn’t have blamed any Auror or Muggle policeman for thinking him dangerous.

“Listen,” he said. Sirius reached out toward her shoulder, and then seemed to notice how dirty his hand was. He whipped out his wand and cast a spell she didn’t recognize, and in a few seconds both hands were stripped clean; a bit pink, but spotless. 

“Hey,” she objected, taking one hand in hers gently, in case the redness was painful. “I know working on that thing is a dirty job, but don’t hurt yourself on my account.”

His great barking laugh sounded rough and angry. “Too late, love.” 

“I don’t know why you’re upset, but I’m serious-- a little grime isn’t going to stop me, okay?” she said, reaching over to adjust his work shirt’s crooked collar, as if to prove her point. She held up that hand to show him the smudge she’d earned herself, and then wiped it on his shoulder with a grin. Elodie ached to see his devil-may-care attitude return, along with the smile that brought the sun with it. She got a hand squeeze and a tilted smirk instead.

“I’m upset because I almost kept a promise to myself, but to hell with it,” he said, throwing his arms out in defiance, pulling her hand along with his. 

“Tell me,” she prompted, happy to go along with his expansive gesture. He stepped closer again, now less than a foot apart from her. She had to look up to see his face, even though he wasn’t as tall as Remus.

Instead of answering directly, he asked a question of his own. “Weren’t you about to go tell all?”

Elodie flushed. His words reminded her that standing outside their cottage basically holding hands with Sirius wasn’t exactly a good look, right before she went to persuade Remus to love her back. Before she could answer Sirius with more than a slight nod, he reached down and grabbed her free hand.

“Don’t. That’s what I needed to tell you. I can’t let you go to Remus with your heart in your hand without offering you mine.”

Elodie gasped. She was genuinely speechless; her heart pounded, tears pricked at her eyelids, goosebumps rose on her arms, and she could hardly breathe. Sirius brought their joined hands up to his chest, where she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“I tried to be the bigger man, but it’s not in me,” he said with a diffident shrug.

Something about the way he sounded so disappointed in his own decision set off Elodie’s temper. She ripped her hands out of his grasp and took a few steps back, crossing her arms and frowning at him.

“Do you hear yourself?” she demanded. “I can’t imagine you’ve ever read the book Pride and Prejudice, but let me tell you, no woman wants to hear a man tell her he’s in love with her against his own better judgment!”

“Ellie,” Sirius started toward her, but she stopped him with her sharp tone of voice.

“No. Just stop. You’re disparaging yourself, Sirius. Can’t you hear it?”

“And you think you’ve made your decision, so you’re defensive!” he accused. “Don’t push me away with excuses.”

“Well that’s just--” Elodie felt her anger flow out into her words, nearly screaming, but her fury almost immediately deflated when she reflected on what Sirius had said. “Okay, possibly accurate,” she said, much more quietly.

“You’re overthinking everything, and I’ll prove it,” Sirius said, crossing his own arms. “Do either Remus or I have a serious romantic relationship in the books?” Elodie’s eyes widened. She shushed him, pointing toward the cottage window, but Sirius just shook his head at her. “Muffliato enchant, remember? It goes both ways. He can’t hear us out here. Don’t get distracted--answer the question.”

“You know I shouldn’t answer that, and besides, it’s not like he can’t just open the door and hear--”

“So, at least one of us, or you’d have reacted differently,” Sirius said harshly. Everything in his body language telegraphed confrontation and determination. Elodie opened her mouth to protest, but he waved her off, and spoke again before she had the chance. “And I’d bet half the Galleons I have in Gringotts that it’s Remus.” He started walking toward her, pointing. “ _ That’s _ why you’re so hesitant. You think you’ve no right to change anything. Just admit it!” 

Now he was once again standing close, every inch of his nearly six foot frame unyielding and intimidating. Elodie refused to move a muscle, but she felt completely outmatched. She’d made a tactical error in telling him the truth about herself, but not because he’d used that knowledge against her. No, it was because she’d been completely and utterly honest, and now she felt like lying to him was simply impossible. The truth was,  _ he wasn’t wrong _ . Elodie tried to hold his gaze, but the longer he stayed silent and kept his laser focus on her, the more her resolve crumbled.

Finally she gave up and turned her head away with a whimper of frustration.

“I knew it!” Sirius said, taking her action as the surrender she’d unwittingly allowed it to be. In victory he was gentle, though. “Sweetheart, look at me,” he said in a gentle, loving voice. Elodie just shook her head. Instead of trying to persuade her, Sirius came up beside her and leaned over. In the same soft voice, he said, “I  _ know _ you. You’re wracked with guilt, thinking that you don’t deserve to change our world, but you don’t understand, Elodie. You’ve already changed it. I’ve fallen for you. It’s done. You can’t take it back, and I wouldn’t let you if you could.”

No power on earth could have kept her from looking up at him in that moment. All his anger was gone, and what was left was a Sirius who looked more gorgeous and sincere than she had ever seen him.  _ What could a woman in  _ either _ universe say to that? _ she wondered. Elodie almost laughed when, after a few seconds, she’d thought of the perfect response.

“You  _ are _ a good man, damnit,” she admonished him, knowing her comment had neatly avoided everything important about what he’d just said to her. She lifted her chin as if to dare him to deny the truth of her retort anyway. Sirius burst into his wonderful laughter, and she pursed her lips, desperately trying to keep her composure. “Hey! I’m not kidding, that was the most beautiful speech I’ve ever heard, fictional or otherwise,” she yelled at him. “What am I even going to do with you!?” she said, accidentally voicing her internal monologue as she threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Let yourself love me, of course. Easy answer,” Sirius said. She could tell that he was deliberately allowing himself to sound overconfident to add to the humor of the moment.

Elodie felt the need to pace. She started with a curve around Sirius as he watched her with an impossibly lovable smile on his face. “I wish it was as easy as it sounds, I really truly do,” Elodie confessed. She stopped pacing to turn toward Sirius and point directly at him, her back to the cottage. “But I don’t understand how to take apart this friendship and put it back together in this context. It doesn’t help that you seem determined to put yourself down despite the fact that you’re insulting everyone who cares about you every time you do it! You are a good man, Sirius Black!”

She could see on his face that he wanted to say something to refute her. Instead, he tipped his head back and shook his head as if to shake off the urge. When he looked back in her direction, he seemed distracted by something behind her for a split second, but his next words erased her curiosity entirely.

“I love that you think that, Ellie, but you’re wrong,” he said. “I’m far too selfish-- and I’ll prove it.”

At this, Sirius walked toward her, and before she could open her mouth to argue, he’d slid his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. Then he kissed her, his other hand sliding up to cup her face, his fingertips tangling in her windblown hair. At first Elodie was shocked, and Sirius pressed his advantage, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and claiming hers with brushes and teases. He kissed like the wild passionate man he was written to be, possessive and intense.

Elodie couldn’t help but respond. She reached up and brushed his unruly hair away from their faces as she arched up against him, kissing him back with equal fervor. Something about his all in attitude had sparked something in her, a need to show him how he made her feel. She lifted herself up as high and as close to him as she could reach, turning her head to the side so their kiss could deepen. He made a deep groaning noise as if she’d hurt him, and she pulled back, concerned.

“You’re--” he gasped, then,  _ “Please,” _ which was a word she  _ never _ heard from him except in jest. Finally, Sirius said, “Yes,  _ yes,” _ and he buried both of his hands in her hair and took her mouth again. Elodie’s hand slipped down from his hair to his chest, and she held onto him with the other, one handful of his worn shirt in her fist at his back.

Wherever he touched her, Sirius brushed fire, his mouth hot against hers, sending shivers up and down her spine. He drew back for a split second and she lifted herself up on her toes again, chasing his tongue into his mouth with hers and slipping her fingers in between the wide-set buttons of his shirt to press her palm over his heart. This was  _ Sirius  _ touching her, kissing her, persuading her, and wrecking her for anyone else. The hand that still cupped her face trembled, and when she was able to catch her breath, Elodie whispered, “You’re shaking.”

He kissed her jawline and down her neck, saying, “Oh, Ellie. Forgive me.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but at the same time, she did. This was beyond persuasion, past arguments, and into claiming. She had been steps away from choosing Remus, and now…

His hand wove its way across her back to pull her hips against his, and she gasped against his ear. They had to stop--she needed to try to adjust to this paradigm shift. She opened her eyes, valiantly attempting to re-orient herself to reality. They’d gotten turned around, and the first thing she saw was the cottage window.

Where Remus stood, having clearly just walked over, given the look on his face.

Elodie buried her face in Sirius’s neck, pulling her hand out from where she’d twisted it into his shirt. “Stop,” she said, pure shock dulling the edges of the anger in her voice. When he lifted his head to look at her, she gently brushed his hair from where it had covered his eyes even as she swayed her body away from his. “Remus is at the window.”

Sirius closed his eyes in what looked like genuine pain. When he opened them, his expression was deeply apologetic. “Yes,” he said in a wrecked sounding voice. “I know.” Stunned, Elodie backed farther away from him.

Now, she knew what had happened.  _ This _ was why Sirius had said he’d prove that he wasn’t a good man. Just as he’d initially offered to step aside and allow Remus his chance with Elodie, he knew what Remus would do if their roles were reversed. If Remus saw proof of Sirius’s feelings for Elodie, no power in either universe would stop him from making way for his best friend’s happiness. 

Sirius had known that when he’d kissed her.

Even if Elodie went to Remus and told him she loved him, that she could  _ prove _ it with Gâteaufidél, there was no chance he would choose to hurt Sirius. Even if he  _ did _ have feelings for her. Now, she’d never know.

“Elodie?” Sirius’s voice was thick with regret.

“Just… just give me a minute, okay?” she said, hating the way the adrenaline from Remus seeing them felt mixed with the drugging lust she’d felt from Sirius’s kisses. Sirius looked so upset that she couldn’t help herself. She moved closer and cupped his face in her hand. “Okay?” she repeated. Sirius just nodded.

“I’m going for a walk,” Elodie decided. One look at Sirius had her adding, “By myself. No Padfoot, no spells, do you hear me?” 

“I hear you,” Sirius said quietly.

“I just--” Elodie started to say in frustration, but she stopped herself. “There is no way I’m talking about any of this right now.” She wasn’t sure if she was admonishing him, or herself.

“Okay,” Sirius agreed.

Elodie started to walk, then she stopped. She started walking away again, but something about his behavior halted her steps. He could afford to seem contrite, couldn’t he? After all, he’d ‘won.’ She  _ hated _ how manipulated she felt, so much so that she turned around and marched back toward Sirius. 

“Just, one more thing,” she said, anger turning her tone ugly. Sirius just raised his eyebrows as he stood there, his ripped shirt and tattoos making him look every inch the bad guy he claimed to be. “If we were at #12 Grimmauld right now, I’d open the curtains over your mother before I left. If she hates half-bloods, I don’t even know  _ what _ she’d think about me. I’d let her do all the yelling for me.”

“Am I allowed to laugh?” Sirius asked, meekly.

“Oh for the love of Merlin!” Elodie swore. “Yes. Damn you. And I wouldn’t really do that. She’s a terrible person. I’m just really, really mad at you.”

“I understand,” Sirius said, valiantly holding back a smile.

“And smitten, for the record,” she said under her breath before she could stop herself. Then, louder, “But very, VERY angry. Goodbye!” Elodie said, making a long, agonized disgruntled noise as she spun on her heel and stomped off toward the forest path. There was just something about him that shredded her resolve every time.

After a good twenty stomps, she covered her mouth with her hand and groaned again. She didn’t know whether to smile like a loon or scream in deep frustration. He was a complete scoundrel! A clever, infuriating, sexy, complicated, brilliant, self-flagellating, gorgeous scoundrel. Sirius had side-stepped her neatly, and despite all her optimism to the contrary, deep down Elodie wasn’t sure she had had any more than a 50/50 chance at persuading Remus, even with the Gâteaufidél. The worst (best? She just didn’t know, right now) part was that, after a month’s time, she could totally see herself being grateful for how completely Sirius had solved her dilemma. 

Until then, she was going to have to find a way to scrub the memory of Remus’s shocked face in the cottage window from her memory, and from her heart.

8888888888888888

Sirius’s bike was moved out of sight by the time she came back. Elodie wasn’t brave enough to go inside the house right away, so she went looking for Sirius.

To her surprise, he wasn’t in his workshop, but his motorcycle was there, in its stasis bubble. Neither man was anywhere to be found outside, so she gathered up her resolve and went in to find them. In the living room, Remus’s chair was empty, a half-drunk tea left on the table beside it. When she picked it up, it was stone cold. The kitchen was dark and quiet when she walked over to look inside, flicking on the lights to see if one of them had been sitting at the table in the dark.

“He said he had a meeting with Albus and Minerva.” Sirius’s voice came from the rug on the floor in front of the hearth where he was sitting sprawled, far too close to the fire for her comfort. Something of her trepidation must have shown on Elodie’s face, because he quickly added, “He said it was pre-planned.”

“Oh!” she said. Now she remembered Remus telling her about the meeting. She felt ashamed that her first instinct was to think he might have left the house after what he’d seen. 

Feeling at a loss for words, she fell back on routine and took Remus’s mug into the kitchen to clean it. She felt like her emotions were balanced on eggshells, risking a meltdown if she tipped too far in any direction, whether it was anxiety, excitement, regret, or euphoria. Setting aside the exact circumstances, there was an amazing man in the other room who had declared his love for her. A man who had suffered unimaginably, and whose resilience had led him to resist a fate worse than death for over a dozen years. 

But it wasn’t his time in prison that had led him to make the choice he had earlier. Elodie was certain that she had a good solid understanding the canonical Sirius, the person Rowling had written, despite her propensity for reading ‘Marauder-era’ fanfiction stories. Sirius was reckless and brave. He was headstrong, with a core of inner strength that shone brilliantly when he made righteous choices. At the same time, he was only human, and his flaws had always caused his mistakes to burn brighter and more damaging.

When Elodie had first stomped into the forest, she’d seen in front of her the path her heart was most likely to follow, given time. She would end up forgiving Sirius, of course. She would see the virtue of not being tempted to keep attempting to persuade Remus, or worse, being heartbroken and trying not to show it, day after day. Elodie would end up grateful that Sirius had acted decisively, once the sting of what she’d lost had started to blur, if she’d really lost anything in the first place. How long could she continue to pine for Remus, wanting something that wasn’t ever written in his story? No, that path was full of obstacles that might as well be insurmountable, wasn’t it? The road leading her to Sirius was far less fraught, and she could see clear to the happiness that it led to. Elodie could see that she had the opportunity to spend every day in awe that someone like Sirius loved her, and every night…

The water she’d started running in the sink to wash their collection of dirty dishes had long ago run hot enough to use. By now the steam from the flow of water running down the drain had pooled in the sink and had started rising up into her face.

Elodie turned off the tap, shrugged her shoulders, and cast a mass cleansing spell instead. Then she walked into the living room.

Sirius moved to get up, but she shook her head at him, and he sank back down onto the rug.

“I think there’s a good chance that sometime in the future, the two of us are going to be happy,” she said. “Stupidly happy. I’m looking forward to it.” She rubbed her eyes wearily. “But I need time to forgive you first.”

Sirius had been lying on his back when she’d walked in, and at her words, he let himself go limp in relief, his head making a thunking noise as it hit the bare floor just beyond the rug. Elodie settled herself on her side of the couch, kneeling on it and tucking her feet beneath her. She  _ Accio _ ’d her favorite pillow and hugged it to her chest, then, on a whim,  _ Accio _ ’d another. She looked at it for a long moment, and then, just as Sirius cracked one eye open to see what she was planning to do with it, she levitated it over to him.

He didn’t say anything, but the warmth of his gaze made her reluctant heart sing.

“Remus told me off for being too shit to let him know I felt… something, in regards to you,” Sirius said, stuffing the pillow under his head. Then he added, in a low voice, “I wasn’t sure you were going to chuck it at me or not.”

“That was one of my options,” she admitted. Then, before she had really thought through what she was asking, she said, “Was he-- Did he seem…”

“I’ll admit I wasn’t looking for nuance,” Sirius told her. “He’s been avoiding emotions since forever.”

“Guilt, guilt, guilt,” Elodie said, too tired to keep her internal monologue silent. Sirius rolled onto his side to look at her.

“I really am a terrible person,” he said, conversationally.

“Go on,” Elodie let herself say, as much to vent her own sense of revenge as to hint to him about her current state of mind.

“I’m not sorry,” Sirius said, his dark eyes intent as he looked at her. “I feel remorse, but not contrition.”

“All’s fair?” she asked, leaving out the rest of the phrase.  _ That _ was far too on the nose.

“I don’t want fair. I want you.”

Her thrill of delight at what he was saying was warring with the thick thread of guilt that wove through the very thought of being with him. 

She could hear him move, but she stayed still, her eyes shut. She felt the tug of  temptation to just open her heart to him fully despite her anger and guilt, and deal with the fallout later.

“Stop beating yourself up,” Sirius said quietly, his voice very close to her. Her irritation rose, and cascading with it came remorse and an empty, aching kind of sadness. The latter was what Sirius didn’t understand, and without that context, his persuasion came across as self-serving in the extreme. She needed him to understand her if this was going to work at all.

“I’m not beating myself up, Sirius,” she said. “I’m heartbroken.”

His silence was deafening, and she finally opened her eyes to look at him. He was crouched down beside the couch, sitting back on his feet like he’d been slapped.

“I love him, Sirius,” Elodie said, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve more than proved it. I said before that I’m swept away by you, and that’s definitely what’s happened, and I am not saying that I regret that.” She didn’t want to cry, but it was happening, and she was getting sick and fucking tired of being out of control today. “But I  _ love _ him, and today I lost him, and it  _ hurts. _ ”

She started crying harder, the waves of each different negative emotion she felt  crashing in sequence, making it hard to breathe. 

“Can I?” he asked her, and somehow she just knew he was asking to comfort her.

“Please,” she said, moving the tear-soaked pillow. She expected him to slide over and wrap his arms around her. Instead, he stood, and then before she even realized what he was doing, he picked her up against his chest and sat, gathering her into his lap. He’d yet again taken more than she’d offered, and somehow it was yet again exactly what she needed.

He was everywhere around her: his warmth, his scent, and the intensity that seemed to be integral to him. She nestled against his chest and tried to take deep breaths to calm down. For his part, Sirius didn’t say anything, he just stroked her hair.

After a while, Elodie said, “You’re really strong.”

A deep laugh vibrated up through his chest and out, joyful and full of relief. She understood. Of all the things she could have said, that was the most gentle.

“There’s not much to do in Azkaban,” he said, simply. His words conjured up a bleak image of Sirius doing pull-ups in his cell in between hiding as Padfoot from the Dementors.

Elodie leaned her head back against his shoulder, shifting her body so she could get enough distance to see him clearly. She watched the play of emotions on his face as he reached over and twined his fingers with hers against her stomach. First uncertain, then relieved, finally pleased.

“Can I just tell you: I mean, I know you’re real, you’re here, you’re  _ you _ ,” she said, for once organizing her thoughts out loud instead of from a list in her own mind.  “But I have the unique perspective of having basically read all about you before I ever met you. I’m so fascinated about the things I recognize, but it’s really the stuff I never could have predicted that have me just… I wish I could explain it.”

“Ellie, you’ve completely-- adorably --lost me,” Sirius confessed.

She smiled wryly. “Yeah, I deserved that,” she said. “Give me a sec.”

With her free hand, Elodie pushed her tear-wet hair behind her ear. She reached up and traced her finger down from his forehead to his jawline. He’d been described in  _ Prisoner of Azkaban _ as being gaunt, his skin sunken and sallow, his hair matted into a mess of tangles. That was many months ago. He looked healthy and fit now, still lean, but missing the easy, entitled grace he’d been described as having, as a rich pureblood in his youth.

“Tell me,” he rumbled.

“I wanted to share what was written about you-- your character. I just Elodie’d up the description,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself. “But I don’t remember specifics anyway. It’s all rolled in together, so it’s, like, all just a Sirius-shaped space in my heart now. I can’t separate anything out and look at it properly anymore.”

Looking pleased, Sirius took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hugged her lightly with the arm she was resting against. It was a vulnerable moment, and as they looked into each other’s eyes, Elodie became very aware again of how physically close they were.

“You’re also the kind of man who does  _ this _ when trying to ease a broken heart,” Elodie said incredulously, gesturing to the way she was snuggled in his lap, her hand in his. “How does that even happen?”

“Panic,” Sirius quipped. “The last crying person I comforted was baby Harry. I just snagged him right up into a cuddle.”

Elodie covered her face as she giggled. 

“What?” Sirius said, chuckling. “It worked, thank you very much!”

“I  _ need _ you in my life,” she said, trying to articulate how much she valued his wild cleverness on top of everything else that made him so important to her. 

“I feel the same way,” he murmured. Their levity faded, to be replaced by tension.

She folded her hands under her chin and met his gaze. “Then, why play dirty?” she asked impulsively. He pulled his arm free, and as she leaned against the arm of the couch, he crossed both hands behind his head. She could see him shrugging into defensiveness, like it was a kind of armor.

“Because I wanted to win,” he threw out, before scrubbing his hands into his hair, over his face, and back through his hair. He sighed. “That’s not right. Too flip. Honestly?” Sirius said, his eyebrows shooting up in an unspoken question. 

Where his body language spoke of careless confidence, his grey eyes were more vulnerable. Elodie nodded, staying where she was only because of that open expression.

“I’m caught in a cycle of take backs,” he said. “At some point, everything good just came with a twist. Big and small. At first it was a joke. I beat James up the Gryffindor girls’ dorm staircase-- broke my leg sliding back down. A perfect prank on Filch-- lost the Invisibility Cloak.”

Elodie’s breath caught. She knew the Cloak had to have been lost at Hogwarts during the Marauders’ tenure there. To hear him casually mention it like that was kind of thrilling.

“Then, it just got worse, especially toward the end. I was free of my mother-- Regulus turned on me. James and Lily and Harry safe-- no, they’re gone. I caught Peter-- no. It was so predictable that I didn’t really believe I’d truly escaped Azkaban until I was on the grounds at Hogwarts.”

“Oh my God,” Elodie said, her stomach dropping. “It didn’t stop. You almost caught Peter  _ how _ many times, last year?” She scooted up to sit on the arm of the couch, resting her feet on his leg after a nod of approval. Knowing all of the things he’d tried, the ways he’d desperately sought out Scabbers for months, starving and friendless in the woods-- it made her blood boil. She was far too warm (and angry) to snuggle.

“Too many,” Sirius said grimly. “I knew as soon as I offered for Harry to come live with me that I was tempting fate. But he’s my Godson, for the love of  _ Merlin _ , and Lily’s sister--”

“Is a monster with a human face,” Elodie said. A vision of Harry being able to live with them at the cottage with a cadre of powerful witches and wizards to protect him swam in front of her eyes, but she blinked it away as a pipe dream.

“I thought I was dead or worse so many times before I met you,” Sirius said. “I saw you standing there psyching yourself up, and I couldn’t stop myself.” He patted her feet, and she lifted them up to let him stand. It looked like she wasn’t the only one with too much energy.

“All right,” she said. “An argument, I get. But did you have to choose  _ that _ moment--”

“Yes.”

The glittering intensity was back in his eyes, and his tone was final. Unapologetic was putting it mildly.

“Damnit, Sirius, what if  _ I _ wasn’t sure!”

“You aren’t!” he spat. Then, “Are you?”

Elodie crossed her arms so tightly her fingers turned white. There they were, him standing, her sitting, a yard apart, each breathing heavily with their respective fury, until she looked down.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” she said, truthfully.

“Well I was watching the take back happen right there in front of me. And I could see how to stop it,” he said gesturing in front of him with his hands. “Unless…” he puffed out a long, harsh breath. “Unless it’s happening right now.”

“No,” Elodie protested, standing up in alarm. 

Sirius was already upset, his movements around the room frenetic, pacing, hands waving. “No, no, I should have realized. I got--” Remus’s slipper went flying, kicked, after Sirius tripped on it “--confident.  _ Stupid _ .”

“It’s not a take back,” Elodie said loudly and firmly.

“You love him!” Sirius whirled around, his tone accusatory. “You  _ should! _ ”

“Then how do you explain the biscuit?” she countered.

“You’re probably right about them. You’re a, a  _ superfan _ ,” Sirius said, morose instead of angry, now. 

“I researched the recipe, Sirius. Using your emotions as a potions ingredient has been done for thousands of years. Hell, Greek has six words for love, and they’re all different,” Elodie said. She wasn’t going to let herself be sent spinning by his mercurial temper, or the way he seemed to be working his way through the stages of grief. “You think something this ancient is just fudging the entire concept of romantic love? It’s  _ not _ .”

Elodie walked over to the fireplace where he’d stopped moving, one hand pressed against the mantel as if propping himself up against imminent collapse. Just one word or phrase would probably be enough to topple him.

“Sirius?”

“Look,” he said, his voice scratchy and resigned. “I’ll pack up what I’ve got, all right? Head down to somewhere warm-- hell, that’s all I could think about, hiding in that blasted cave.” He hadn’t moved and wasn’t looking at her.

Internally, Elodie almost laughed. Sirius was essentially putting her in the position to persuade  _ him _ that theirs was a possible relationship worth trying for! This moment was so delicate, she knew. If she said the wrong thing, Sirius would become resolute and unmoving, and they might lose him. He wasn’t safe out in the world, he’d be found, dragged to the Ministry, or worse-- soul sucked out in the wild somewhere, alone and without her.

The thought made her almost desperate, and Elodie drew in a deep breath to stop herself from crying. There wasn’t much space between the mantel and Sirius, but it was enough for her. 

Elodie turned her body sideways and scooted over until she was standing in front of Sirius. He looked bone-weary and sad, but there was a stubborn jut to his chin that told her he was still reachable, that he’d seen her and knew that she was about to try to talk him into staying.

“I grew up in a world without Sirius Black. I lived without one for over thirty years,” she whispered, smoothing the lines of his shirt that had twisted when he’d been stomping around, yelling. “Please don’t make me do it again.”

A wayward tear snuck free and started down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily, upset with herself for showing the wrong kind of persuasive emotion. She didn’t want Sirius to stay because he’d made her cry. She wanted him to stay because he belonged at Phoenix House, safe. She wanted him to stay because he belonged with  _ her. _ Even thinking that to herself was a shocker, but shocking revelations were becoming commonplace for her lately. Elodie had loved Remus Lupin since the moment she’d read about his Boggart lesson, and yet here she was, heart torn in two, looking to mend the half she hadn’t anticipated losing. Sirius was tricky like that.

“You  _ jerk,” _ Elodie found herself saying, more tears dripping down even as she laughed. She caught them with the hand she used to cover her eyes with. “You’re going to make me fall all the way in love with you despite myself, aren’t you?”

She lowered her hand to let herself look up at him, and saw to her relief that he had lost the weary sadness that had frightened her so much. Now, he looked more like a Marauder. His black hair hung half covering his face, but the brightness of his eyes glittered past the strands that obscured them. He was starting to smile, and it was a smug, joyful smile.

It made her want to smack him. Or kiss him. One of the two.

“Crash and burn with me, Ellie,” he murmured, his voice rough and wicked.

“You’ve done it all out of order, if that was the plan,” she told him in a frustrated voice.

Sirius laughed, throwing his hair back out of his face with both hands. “You haven’t spent enough time around me to know I  _ always _ screw up the order.”

Elodie groaned. “That is just the worst-- That is an incredibly awful joke, Sirius. At your own expense, even!” She rubbed her hands over her cheeks to clear away the evidence of her tears. “Will you stay? Even if I need…” a surge of emotion threatened her composure, but she tamped it down as best she could. “Even if I need some time?”

Sirius regarded her thoughtfully. “We need to get you sorted,” he said. Elodie thought he was trying a desperate gambit to change the subject, but then he explained. “Wouldn’t put it past you to be a secret Slytherin and string me along, just to get me to stay.”

“Wrong! That would still be a Gryffindor,” Elodie told him pertly. “Offering a fake romance to save your life is an incredibly Gryffindor thing to do. A Slytherin would have convinced you that your life was in too much danger to leave.  _ Far _ less messy.”

Sirius leaned forward, catching himself with a hand on the mantel on either side of her head. “Maybe you’re a Hufflepuff and your loyalty to me will be my salvation?” He was inches away from her, and she felt like he was taking up almost all of her air. It was less of a suffocating feeling than she expected, because his energy and the affection she could feel bubbling under the surface of him were keeping her buoyant.

“Or I’m a Ravenclaw and you need to sit down, Mr. Black, so I can show you my fifteen step process for clearing your name,” she said. The professorial voice she’d been going for ended up far too breathy for her own tastes, but Sirius seemed to appreciate it. “Ravenclaw Elodie would have an easel and graphs.”

“I could learn to love Ravenclaw Elodie,” Sirius said, leaning in to brush noses with her.

Elodie felt her chest moving with the force of how heavy she was breathing. His proximity was making her forget everything, but even though she hadn’t been sorted to Ravenclaw, she knew that she couldn’t remain within six inches of Sirius at all times. She would need time to adjust to him, to  _ them _ . Time to adjust to losing her hopes for a relationship with Remus.

Sirius leaned in again, and Elodie dodged him. He was undaunted, kissing her neck in a way that felt almost as intimate as another open-mouthed kiss.

“I actually did end up trying on the Sorting Hat,” Elodie said in Sirius’s ear.

_ That _ got his attention. “You did? Tell me,” he demanded. 

Elodie shook her head. “Whether or not I’m a true Slytherin, I know better than to just hand over much-valued information,” she told him with a grin she hoped would have been worthy of a Marauder sidekick.

Sirius rested his forehead against hers and groaned good-naturedly. “I should have known. What hoops do I need to jump through, Miss Merriman?” He drew back a bit and looked at her with an exceedingly earnest expression. “I get one veto, that’s the rule, did you know?”

“One veto,” she repeated, trying to look stern.

“I veto any moratorium on kissing,” he said immediately, then swooped in to steal a kiss. He’d moved so fast that she didn’t expect much of it, just a brief peck as a souvenir of having gotten past her defenses, but as soon as their lips met, the character of the kiss changed into that of longing. Sirius kept his hands in their place on the mantel, but Elodie couldn’t help the way she reached up and caught his forearm in her hand, holding on for balance, and to ground herself against the electricity he seemed to give off.

Elodie felt like she could feel the way her heart was rearranging itself to make space for him, and she pulled away before Sirius could. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she lifted up on her toes to kiss him once more, using gravity to pull herself away.

“I can’t be your girlfriend right now,” she said in a rush. “I’ve got to-- I, I need--”

“Time,” Sirius finished for her. “Time is something I have an abundance of, you know.”

“Your name is not in the dictionary under the word ‘patience,’ Sirius, and you know it. Or, if it is,” she added impishly, “It’s because the publisher misspelled ‘impetuous.’”

“That’s one of the nicest compliments anyone’s ever given me, Ellie,” Sirius said, pushing off from the mantel and walking over to the couch. He swung his arm around in a grand gesture, offering her first choice of seating. She walked past him and stopped in front of her favorite spot, half expecting him to leap into it so that she would end up on his lap, but he chivalrously allowed her to sit before settling into the middle beside her.

“So, we both need something,” Sirius said, shooting a look of pure mischief at her when she turned to look at him so quickly her neck started to ache. He held up a hand of surrender. “You need time, and I need to look like I haven’t broken your heart so I don’t get my throat ripped out by a werewolf.”

“Oh,” Elodie said. “Yeah, I can see that being a necessity.”

“I have an idea, but you’re going to smack me for it. Possibly repeatedly.”

“I am not your fake girlfriend,” Elodie objected. “It would be fake for all of three minutes, until you kissed me the first time. It’s not a matter of being willing, Sirius, you know that, right?” She curled her feet up underneath her so she was facing him on the couch. “It’s a matter of not wanting to cry over one man while I belong to another.”

_ “Belong,” _ Sirius breathed, his eyes suddenly going dark and fierce. “If ‘belong’ is on the table, I can  _ learn _ patience, love.”

“A hundred Muggle feminists are rolling over in their graves in protest,” Elodie muttered to herself. “Tell me your ridiculous plan?”

“We don’t tell Remus anything’s off, we just give you time, and once a day or so, I get to kiss you,” Sirius said, his shoulders coming up as if preparing for her to whack him with something.

“That’s… not that ridiculous, really. It gives me time, gives you incentive, and gives Remus something to hang assumptions on,” Elodie mused. “As long as you’re not using that kiss as a stick to beat him with? There’s no reason to be ostentatious or make him uncomfortable.”

“Definitely not Slytherin,” Sirius speculated. “Hufflepuff gains some ground, though. You really are something else, Elodie.”

“Before you praise me to the skies, remember I am in love with him, much good has it done me,” Elodie said sadly. “That would make anyone biased.”

“I don’t think that changes as much as you think it does,” Sirius said. He crossed a leg and scratched the bottom of one foot absently. “I’ll have some of my own rules, too, I think. But I can make this work.”

“I’m still pissed at you, you know,” Elodie told him, but the bite had gone out of the statement, today. She assumed that once she was in her own room, curled up in her own bed, it would be easier to access the anger.

“I deserve it,” he agreed. “Still not sorry, though.”

Elodie had been expecting that statement, but Sirius hadn’t been expecting the pillow that smacked him straight in the face a few seconds after he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys! I hope you still love me?


	31. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie deals with the negatives and positives from the events of the day, and ends up focusing on the positives. She gets a chance to see Remus's newest column and finds the discovery bittersweet.
> 
> [even if you're distressed about the last chapter, please give this one a chance, you might find that your concerns are allayed?]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for making it to this chapter! I think even if you're profoundly disappointed in the loss of a potential Remus/Elodie (for now? DUN DUN DUN) relationship being imminent, you will enjoy the shifts in perspective that display themselves, here.
> 
> It was a tough twist to write, knowing that I might lose some of you.

 

Elodie had bid Sirius good night and started for the basement after she hit him with the pillow, but Sirius had stopped her in the kitchen doorway to take her hand, squeeze it, and tell her he did understand that she was upset.

“I made this about me. I know it’s not all about me,” he had said.

When Elodie got downstairs, she cast a series of silencing charms, knowing she’d need them. Her world had shifted on its axis, and those kinds of changes were never smooth, especially not when she’d been on the cusp of an entirely different kind of change, or she hoped she had been.

She piled up some pillows and climbed into bed, leaning on the pile and pulling up her blankets to her chin. It was time, Elodie told herself, to examine the tough things she had been trying to avoid thinking about.  _ After all, _ she thought,  _ you’re already mourning, aren’t you? _ The real truth she’d been avoiding was the high chance that she’d already be mourning tonight,  _ without _ the addition of Sirius’s revelation. Elodie picked up the top-most pillow  _ behind _ her head and dropped it back on  _ top _ of her head.

“All right, let’s do this,” she said out loud, secure in her silencing charms. The odd part was that she couldn’t hear herself, and Elodie giggled as she went over the list of charms she’d cast in her head, then casting  _ Finite Quies _ when she remembered which one would silence all sound in a room. She repeated herself and heard the words, muffled though they were through her pillow.

“Question one: How long did Remus know Tonks before he accepted that she was honestly in love with him?” Elodie asked the quiet, warded room.

She thought about it. Nymphadora Tonks had been introduced in book five, and her interactions with Remus had intensified in book six. By book seven they were married, but it wasn’t until the tail end of the sixth,  _ Half Blood Prince _ , that he had given any signs of acquiescing.

An awful thought occurred to Elodie. She was thinking in terms of ‘giving up,’ and she  _ knew _ that Remus did try to leave Tonks when he knew she was pregnant. The books--from Harry’s perspective, of course--framed that as mostly terror to do with a deep-seated fear that his son would, because of his lycanthropy, be pre-infected as well. 

“I reject the theory that Remus was never fully invested in his wife and family. I think he was persuaded, not  _ coerced,” _ she said.

The idea sounded even more preposterous spoken aloud, and Elodie felt a flush of embarrassment to have even voiced it in Remus’s house, despite the spells to prevent either of her housemates from hearing her. The secondary point she’d brought up was still standing, though: it probably took longer than six months to get through to Remus Lupin.

“Question two: would Gâteaufidél have been persuasive?” she said next. This was trickier. After all, was  _ she _ persuaded by Gâteaufidél? Sirius could pick it up, couldn’t he? If that meant something for Remus, it should mean something to Elodie.

Suddenly, Elodie was tired of focusing on what she’d lost, or what she might never have gotten to have with Remus. She did love him, but his (probably predictable) reticence had soured a lot of those moments that had stirred up her love for him in the first place. She felt like she was dwelling on that negativity instead of Sirius’s declaration, as if she’d been given an unexpectedly valuable gift at Christmas and she was still whining about the fact that her stocking didn’t have any chocolate. And the chocolate might not even have been hers to begin with. Could she set aside her feelings for Remus?

“Honestly right now it feels like if I don’t set that aside, I’ll end up being resentful about it,” she said, hearing a power in the words that she hadn’t felt as strongly when they had just been thoughts in her head. “Ughhhh, I’m so sorry, Remus,” she added, feeling the tears well up. “I wanted us to be happy,” Elodie whispered. She sat up, carrying the pillow from on top of her head with her, and burying her face in it as she cried. She needed to get to a point where she could think about him without feeling guilty, heartbroken, or lovestruck. 

Elodie wanted her friendship back, and she was pretty sure Remus did, too.

Telling herself she had permission to set aside her angst for Remus was such a load off of her psyche that Elodie fell asleep shortly after she stopped crying.

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When Elodie woke up and cast her  _ Tempus _ charm, it was six o’clock in the morning. She wasn’t ready to go upstairs, but she was too awake to just roll back over. When she tried anyway, she came face to face with the enlarged pillow she’d made to simulate sleeping in a bed with someone.

Elodie just stared at it for a while.

Sirius would never in a million years let her hear the end of it if he knew about that pillow, but when she lifted her wand to shrink it back down, something inside her balked. In her mind, she had named the pillow her substitute Sirius. This was, she supposed, one of the very first examples of her allowing Sirius to influence her habits and behaviors. Thinking of it that way prompted a blush that started to creep its way up her neck. This was a  _ very _ different experience than the past few months. She’d been seeing herself as a romantic underdog for so long that Elodie didn’t know how to handle the role reversal. Even this tiny little thing--a pillow she slept with that reminded her of Sirius--made her feel a kind of minor breathlessness, a hint of excitement. She remembered feeling like that when she’d remember the meadow, but the thrill had always been tempered by the way that had ended.

There was no ending, here. Far from it; this was the very seed of a beginning, and there was only growth to be had from here on in. That was exciting, and the caveat here was that she needed to leave her previous hopes about Remus behind.  _ Only the hopes, _ Elodie realized. 

Suddenly, she was too full of energy to stay in bed. “Only the hopes,” she repeated aloud. She still had Remus’s friendship. She would actually be making him happier, by turning her back on wanting more than friendship with him. Unlike a breakup, or a failed relationship, Elodie had the luxury of retaining very close to the same relationship she had with him before she’d asked him out.  _ She could keep his friendship. _ She hadn’t really lost anything except for her hopes. Sure, they were hard to let go of, but as consolation, she had Sirius Black, didn’t she? Sirius Black, who said he was falling for her.

Elodie slid her closet curtain to the side, looking for something to wear while thinking about Sirius. There was a hard outer shell to the man, but she felt like she’d seen through to the heart of him a few times. She’d seen it when he’d told Remus ‘welcome home.’ When she’d seen him dragging Buckbeak’s food out by hand, rather than with magic. When he’d told her he was offering his heart--and when he’d thought he was stuck in another ‘take back,’ as he’d called it. 

_ “You love him! You SHOULD!” _ he’d yelled. Sirius had sounded so broken down and yet  _ righteous _ at the same time. He’d twisted their roles, putting  _ her _ in the position of defending the idea of being with him instead.

She hugged her arms to her chest. Sirius was so complex, so mercurial. If she’d been in any kind of a regular situation, Elodie’s path would have been so clear, wouldn’t it? She would have slapped the man’s face who had tried to trick her into turning away from the one she’d chosen. She wouldn’t have known so much about that man, wouldn’t know his ultimate fate, wouldn’t know how he’d suffered, not the way she knew Sirius. Emotionally, she had already been along the path toward loving him when she’d arrived here, just like she’d been with Remus. It was true that she’d grown to care for him so much more deeply ever since, but Elodie hadn’t thought about him the same way she’d thought about Remus. That was why she’d been so shocked by the way he’d turned her world on its axis, with the mistletoe.

“Well your first mistake was thinking he was the  _ safer choice, _ Elodie,” she said out loud. 

Elodie blushed, remembering how he had kissed her, with no hesitation, all confidence and hunger instead. Picturing it now made her shiver, and she decided she needed to focus on getting dressed. Even that was now a bit different, though. At some point today, Sirius would kiss her. She realized she was looking forward to that, and now she wanted to pick something to wear that would make him look at her in that appreciative, appraising way he sometimes did. She’d misread that look more than once in the past as teasing, but now Elodie realized she’d misread a great deal.

He’d been thinking of her as someone he’d like to kiss, she realized. He’d been thinking of her that way for a  _ while. _ And now, Elodie wanted to kiss him, too.

“Oh my God,” she said, burying her face in her hands. The smile on her face was indelible, she couldn’t tame it.  _ How had he done this?! _ Sirius had neatly flipped her worldview on its head and somehow not that much had changed! She was pretty sure she still had her friendship with Remus, and while she still felt the draw of her love for him, it was now tempered by the realities she’d been trying to ignore for the past few months. Replacing that hope, though, was a certainty. Sirius Black, the wicked, handsome, infuriating wizard who constantly pushed into her personal space and drove her crazy, had snuck past her defenses. 

Elodie reached out and trailed a hand along the section of shirts, feeling one of them that seemed softer than the others. She pulled it out and laughed. It was black, a velvet shirt with a stylized band symbol for the Weird Sisters emblazoned on the chest. She’d bought it on a whim, as a joke, even, but now she tried it on and found she liked it.

Except, it was  _ clearly _ the kind of shirt she’d wear to impress Sirius. She took it back off and grabbed a different shirt, pulling on a random pair of jeans right afterwards. She caught a glimpse of herself in the soft grey shirt and made a face. It had quite a low neckline, but she was dressed, now, and she was absolutely  _ not _ going to change her clothes twice in one morning just to impress Sirius. Not when they weren’t even officially anything, yet.

Yet!

When Elodie got upstairs, Remus was puttering around with some eggs. She took one look at them and smiled encouragingly, but moved to grab a slice of the cinnamon bread she’d made a few days ago.

“Good morning,” Remus said. His voice was full of amusement, since while she hadn’t said anything out loud, her expression had been pretty clear in her opinion of his egg making abilities.

“Morning,” she said with a mouth full. “Bread’s mostly stale, if it’s any consolation.”

“Hmm,” was Remus’s response.

“Soooooo, yesterday was surreal,” she offered, holding onto the first word for a long time.

“Yeah, about that,” Remus said, looking over at her with his spatula held high. It looked like it was about to drip melted butter on his sleeve. Elodie waited to see what he was going to say next. “Did…” he trailed off, angling the spatula away from his body just in time. He sounded like he was struggling to phrase something, and Elodie knew her single raised eyebrow wasn’t really assisting in that, but she did it anyway. “Did Sirius coerce you at all, yesterday?”

“I’m sorry,  _ what?!” _ Elodie blurted out. 

Remus had turned back to his eggs, but the  _ backs of his ears _ were bright red. “I mean you didn’t necessarily  _ look _ unhappy--”

“Stop. I get the gist,” she interrupted. “If by ‘coerced’ you mean did Sirius threaten me with anything to obtain a particular result, no. If by ‘coerced’ you mean Sirius took what I thought was ‘up’ and made it ‘down’ out of the blue… sort of?” Elodie looked down at her plate and picked up a crumb of sugared cinnamon with a fingertip press. “I hadn’t realized the extent of his… attention.” Then, she realized what Remus had probably been getting at. She had, yesterday morning, implied she was going to bring him her reasons that they should be a couple. Then, Sirius had done that to her first. She laughed out loud.

“I wasn’t trying to sound--” Remus started to say in an extremely stiff voice.

“No, no,” Elodie stopped him, waving her hand as she took a deep breath to calm her near laughing hysteria. “He totally double crossed us. He did to  _ me _ what I was about to do to  _ you. _ Don’t you see?”

Remus walked over and sat down across from her. He was wearing that studied blank expression that meant he was about to say something that made him profoundly uncomfortable. “You were about to--”

“How much did you see, though?” Elodie interrupted again. “Shit. I’m sorry, I swear I’m not trying to make you crazy by never getting to finish a sentence. I just… There was a lot of talking. Before the,” she paused and blushed, but felt determined to get out the rest of her thought, so she swallowed and finished the sentence. “ _ Persuasion.  _ It was all persuasive, though. Not just… that.” 

A genuine smile crossed Remus’s face. “I’m honestly happy to hear that.”

Elodie bit her lip, dithering about saying the next thing that had crossed her mind, but then she shrugged, and said, “It’s nice to be pursued, instead of being the pursuer.”

Remus developed a bit of a deer in headlights look on hearing that, but she didn’t really blame him. 

“I need to say something else, though,” Elodie told him seriously. His eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. “If you  _ ever _ use yesterday as proof I didn’t love you as much as I have said I do, I will hex you deaf, dumb, and blind. Do you understand me?”

Sirius chose that moment to breeze into the kitchen. “Ooh, are we at the point where friends hex other friends if one of us hurts the other?”

Elodie was still looking at Remus, her eyes wide, still feeling the adrenaline rush from the threat she’d just issued. For his part, Remus looked utterly shocked, but as Elodie watched, that expression bled into one of contemplation, and then understanding.

“I hear you,” Remus said. He maintained eye contact with Elodie for a few seconds after that, and she realized he was waiting for her confirmation, so she nodded. “No one is hexing anyone,” Remus said then, and Elodie felt a kindness to his phrasing that warmed her. He got it, she thought. It was a relief.

“If Elodie breaks my heart  _ I’m  _ definitely going to hex her,” Sirius said casually, leaning against the counter.

“...that’s a given, I thought?” Elodie scoffed. “Are there laws against revenge hexing?”

“I don’t know. Remus? Your thoughts?” Sirius said, reaching out his foot to gently shove Remus’s chair in what probably felt like gentle ribbing, to Sirius. 

To Elodie, though, this was beyond the pale. It sounded like Sirius was teasing Remus for having lost his chance, after  _ Sirius _ was the reason he’d lost that chance. On top of that, Remus hadn’t been that enthusiastic about the whole thing in the first place! He wouldn’t be looking to hex anyone.

“YOU!” Elodie shouted at Sirius, whipping her wand out of her pants pocket. She almost tripped in her mad scramble to stand up and march over. On her way, she cast a  _ Petrificus Totallus _ on him. Only the fact that his hand was bracing his weight on the counter with a hand meant he didn’t fall over sideways once he was completely frozen by magic.

“Elodie,” Remus cautioned, but she ignored him.

“That was not okay, Sirius. Don’t you  _ dare _ try to lord it over him when you were the one who was being self-described selfish in what you did yesterday! Are you  _ trying _ to hurt me?”

Sirius couldn’t move any muscles but his eyes, which he lowered in what felt to Elodie like a sheepish expression.

“Don’t do it again,” she commanded. Elodie stepped close and said, “Here’s your punishment, then,” and leaned over to kiss his petrified lips briefly. She turned and walked out of the room, turning to cast a  _ Finite _ once she was out of Sirius’s line of sight.

“You forgot--oof! Never mind,” she could hear Remus saying. He’d watched Sirius become un-petrified and lose his balance, Elodie guessed, thanks to the thump she heard from the kitchen.

8888888888888888

It was hours later when Sirius popped his head in the potion lab in the basement looking for her.

“There you are!” he said.

“Oh, yeah, hi!” Elodie turned around and smiled at him. “It was potion transfer day,” she said, gesturing to the brand new potion of Wolfsbane that now bubbled in the second cauldron. It was actually the third cauldron; Elodie had splurged for another so that she didn’t have to have a set timetable for cleaning each cauldron. There was nothing more onerous as a potion maker than a cauldron that needed to be cleaned before you could work on the next project.

Sirius walked farther into the room and took a look inside the cauldron Elodie was hovering beside. “If you’re looking for help with this, I’ve got to go help Buckbeak build a nest or something in exactly…” Sirius waved his wand in mimicry of the  _ Tempus _ charm but instead of the time, a phrase lit up at the end of it.

_ THREE SECONDS AGO _

Sirius hadn’t spoken a charm aloud, and Elodie realized this amusing display was, in actuality, a show of his nonverbal magic prowess. It was attractive, and Elodie realized she wasn’t bound by any kind of self-imposed stricture about  _ finding _ it attractive.

“Okay, cute,” she told Sirius. “I  _ wasn’t  _ asking for help, for the record, but it’s good to know you’ve got that little spell hiding in your back pocket. The silent casting thing is--” Elodie broke off, blushing. She had had every intention of finishing that sentence with ‘kinda sexy,’ but she completely chickened out. Her inner fangirls were all tsking at her.

“--effective,” Sirius finished for her, turning his body to face her instead of the stone table the cauldrons were resting on. “This is  _ also _ good to know.”

Elodie could feel his eyes on her, but she was not equal to the intensity she imagined would be there, so she started putting out the items that she’d be needing for the second cauldron of Wolfsbane.

Where Remus was patient, especially where other people could feel rushed (like walking over to speak to someone), Sirius was  _ obstinate. _ He was waiting for her to look at him not because he was being indulgent, but because he was letting the time she was taking build up, lengthening the tension between them. Finally, Elodie looked up at him, and he rewarded her with a warm smile that showcased his affection for her in the look in his eyes.

After a few seconds of looking at each other, during which Elodie started to feel warm all over, he spoke. “Kiss do-over?”

She groaned and reached over to give him a hug, burying her face in his chest. He smelled  _ amazing, _ as if recklessness could have a scent. This thought made her blush brighter than she had just minutes earlier. His arms came around to hug her back, but gently. He knew she had something to say, she thought.

Elodie moved her head to rest her cheek against his chest, instead. “You can’t use Remus against me,” she said, firmly. “Especially after what you did, and  _ how _ you did it.”

Sirius kissed the top of her head and hugged her tightly for a few seconds, which Elodie took to be a ‘end of hug’ event, so she stepped back. Confronting him like that made her uncomfortable enough to cross her arms, but she tried to smile a little to soften her body language.

“You’re right,” Sirius said. He pressed a hand against his chest, right where her head had been. She tried not to read too much into it--practice from loving Remus, she realized.  _ That _ thought had her looking down at the floor. “That was habit,” he added, moving his foot to bump into hers when she didn’t look up right away. Her hair had fallen to cover her face, and she tucked it behind her ear and peeked at him.

He looked disappointed.

“I  _ want _ to kiss you,” she blurted out in a quick, unconsidered response to the expression on his face. He didn’t look up, and she was able to watch his reaction to her admission. His whole face lit up, and the hand that he still held to his chest spasmed, clutching the fabric there. Only then did he look at her, with no attempt to hide his happiness. 

Her whole heart was in danger, she realized.

“Tomorrow, then,” Sirius promised, his eyes bright. He left, and it was like the sun had gone down on the room. It was dull without him, and she closed her eyes, putting her hand over her own heart in an unconscious mirroring of his.

_ “Holy shit.” _

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The next day brought a letter from the Weasley twins.

 

> Dear Ms. Merriman,
> 
> This is Fred writing right now. George is here, he says he’ll make comments as necessary.
> 
> Firstly, we wanted to thank you from the bottom of our hearts. You have done us a great service by persuading Mum to not only send along the order of mistletoe we bought, but a second order to make up for the way the first had arrived damaged! We owe you a Favor, Elodie (note the capitalization, this is a bona fide promise! -George), and now, we’re on a first name basis.
> 
> So, you’re asking about our time at Hogwarts. Thinking about how to answer this has been interesting. Since our third year, prank success has been pretty much the best way to judge how things were going, which is thanks to one man. We had two decent DADA professors for our first two years, and then, drumroll please… Quirrell. The man was perfect to prank! Lockhart was more frustrating to prank, because he seemed to take it as a challenge (at which he  _ always _ failed! -George). Lupin is a man we look up to, and Moody… is scary.
> 
> Because we were learning our way around the school during those first two years, George and I can’t really say whether we would have gotten as much grief from other students as we have in the past few. What we  _ can _ say is, the interference by other students follow standard behavior, except for one House.
> 
> We’ll give you one guess.
> 
> Ravenclaws whine about the rules. Gryffindors are usually upset because we thought of it first (and can be recruited for future antics! -George), Hufflepuffs are concerned about fairness when class is disrupted, but the Slytherins! They’ve always been spoilsports, but nowadays if we orchestrate something, there’s a subset of them that are always talking about Blood Traitor this and ‘My Father,’ ‘My family’ that. Our policy is to not engage, but for the record, our Mum is scary enough, not that these wankers have any idea.
> 
> (Might want to keep that one to yourself though. -George)
> 
> Mischief-wise, Hogwarts has only one drag--prick Slytherins. We hope that helps your research.
> 
> Fred and George Weasley

 

“What a smile to see, first thing in the morning,” Sirius complained as he walked into the living room. 

Elodie grabbed the couch pillow and covered her face as she laughed and laughed. “Sirius,  _ honestly,” _ she said, dropping the pillow in her lap. “If anyone read that greeting out instead of hearing your tone of voice, they’d think it was a compliment!”

“It’s not, you’re entirely too awake. It’s  _ six in the morning,” _ Sirius groused, throwing himself onto the couch petulantly.

“Then why aren’t you still in bed?” Remus asked, walking out of the kitchen with a chunk of cinnamon bread in his hand.

Elodie narrowed her eyes at Remus and felt completely justified in doing so when he took out his wand and levitated a starfield of crumbs off of the floor, walking them into the kitchen to dispose of them. She wasn’t as strict as a  _ real _ adult, Elodie told herself. But she did like to walk around with bare feet, and breadcrumbs on bare feet should be a crime worthy of an Unforgivable. When Remus walked back into the doorway of the kitchen, he had a plate under his cinnamon bread this time.

“I’m not in bed because a bloody  _ owl _ woke me by tapping on my window until I told it to fuck off,” Sirius bitched.

“Oh my God,” Elodie said, her eyes wide. She covered her mouth with one hand, then covered her eyes with both when her housemates looked to her for an explanation.

“You have a scroll, was that  _ your _ owl?” Sirius asked, sounding more curious than upset, now.

Elodie nodded, her eyes still covered. “It’s… possible that it thought I sleep in your room?” she said in a hushed tone. “I mean, the laundry room isn’t really a bedroom, and this was the first letter from that owl.” She dropped her hands to look at Sirius, her eyebrows pressed so close together in concern that they hurt. “I’m sorry?”

“If  _ that’s _ why, all is forgiven,” Sirius said, grinning irrepressibly. He’d sat closer to her than he usually did, and now he leaned in, lifting his eyebrows in a question. It was obvious he was asking to kiss her.

“So early in the day?” she teased quietly, but part of the question was serious. “Are you even awake yet?”

“It’s been too long already,” he rumbled at her as he scooted closer. 

She laughed at how disgruntled he was acting. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours, you know,” Elodie said. Sirius turned his body up onto his knees, sliding close enough to brush her thighs with his kneecaps.

“Still too long,” he said, not teasing anymore. They were face to face, him only slightly higher. He braced himself with his right arm resting on the couch behind her and drifted toward her, waiting for her, she realized. Her heart pounding, she nodded. 

Sirius closed the distance between them, his head angled to capture her lips. She pressed closer, suddenly afraid this would be it, all the kiss she’d get today, because it wasn’t enough. Elodie lifted her hand to grab his shirt collar so he couldn’t move away. She must have surprised him, because he made a little ‘Mmmm’ noise and his weight shifted as his left hand moved to the arm of the couch. Now it was no gentle morning kiss, but a yearning one. His tongue danced into her mouth to brush against hers and she chased it, feeling emboldened by how fast she could feel his heart beating against where her fingers were tangled in his shirt, up by his neck.

When he pulled back, she knew it could only have been a minute or so, but she felt like a different person than the one the owl woke up. Elodie looked at Sirius’s mouth for a second before she met his eyes, and when she did, his expression showed the amusement he felt at the way she was clearly affected by the kiss. It wasn’t conceit, somehow. It wasn’t pride, either. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked good on him, this confidence and  _ life. _

“Is it a good morning now?” she asked impudently.

This broke the spell that had them both caught in place, and Sirius pulled back and stood up.  _ “Yes,” _ he said, stretching. “I could get used to six AM.” Then he backed away from her as if expecting reprisal, and added, “I’d like it even more if I didn’t have to leave the room.” He waggled his dark, black eyebrows at her, and then turned and walked into the kitchen.

Elodie sat for a few seconds and then shook her hands out as if they were wet in an attempt to ease the tension she was feeling inside. When she was done, she saw to her surprise that Remus was sitting in his chair across from the couch.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed,” he said quickly, when he saw her distress. “That was the happiest I have ever seen him.”

Elodie groaned, trying to find a balance between humor and wretched embarrassment, despite what he’d said. “I’d be happy if I never have to end a kiss to find out that once again, you’ve accidentally watched it!” she lamented. “I almost don’t know who or where I am anymore.”

Remus winced. “At the risk of your hexing me, I feel like you’re right where you should be.” He stood and walked over to where Elodie was still sitting on the couch. Because her legs were curled up underneath her as always, he was able to come close enough that the fabric of his trousers brushed up against the edge of the couch. “I’m writing about  _ Lumos, _ this week, and I can’t help but feel like all of this is part of the lesson. Everything has been very illuminating.” 

Elodie looked up at him and tried not to see regret hiding in his expression. It was subtle, so she told herself that it was projecting, on her part.

“You should be happy.” Remus smiled, then, and when he walked away, the first breath she drew in afterwards felt different.

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That evening, Elodie was surprised to see Remus’s face show up in the fire. He was at the office of  _ Orion’s Belt _ for one of his rare ‘in office’ days at his newspaper job. Given how far away the office was (she thought it was in Germany somewhere, but Elodie wasn’t completely sure), she wasn’t surprised that Remus had chosen to Fire Talk rather than come all the way home for whatever he needed.

“Hello, Elodie, have you seen Sirius?”

She frowned, then explained her reaction to him. “He took the bike out for a test flight and sideswiped a tree. He’s fine, but I made him take one of those heavy duty pain potions for his ankle. He’s sleeping it off right now.” She didn’t tell Remus that Sirius had scared her by coming inside limping and bleeding, and she didn’t tell Remus that she’d practically had to put the swearing wizard into a body bind spell to get him to sleep. By the look on Remus’s fire-animated face, though, she didn’t have to.

“I’m glad you were able to manage there without me,” Remus said. “I have two bags that I use for work, and I took the wrong one, today. I might not have gathered everything up, either. Would you mind going into my room and just scooping up any papers from my desk and putting them inside the bag? It should be on my bed.”

That Remus would have preferred Sirius to do this wasn’t lost on Elodie, but she nodded.

“I’ll check back in ten minutes? It might take a few minutes, and I’d prefer not to stick my face into the fire any longer than necessary,” Remus said. “Thanks?”

“You bet,” she said, getting up from the couch and waving as Remus’s face retreated into the coals.

Elodie opened Remus’s door as narrowly as possible, hoping to avoid the loud squeak that would sound when the door was opened widely and then shut. It was neater than it had been on her last visit, but still messier than she expected. Instead of a large stack of papers on his desk, though, there was only one. 

She looked for the briefcase that Remus had described. It was on his bed, as expected. Then, she walked over and picked up the single page of parchment. She was delighted to see that it was clearly Remus’s next column, on  _ Lumos. _

* * *

 

> The spell  _ Lumos _ was invented by a Muggle born witch by the name of Levina Monkstanley. The earliest use of the spell was documented in 1772. Monkstanley worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, where the spell  _ Accio _ was generally inadvisable, but she was reported to be a hard working person who often avoided spells in favor of doing things with her hands anyway. As an Unspeakable, this was an asset. As the inventor of a spell as useful as  _ Lumos, _ it is fascinating to think that someone like Levina would design a spell for light, when a torch lit by magic would have sufficed.
> 
> I dug into the rather meagre details that still survive about Ms. Monkstanley, and I found that she was frightened of fire. Given that the better known precursors to  _ Lumos _ were spells that conjured swiftly expiring fire at the tip of one’s wand ( _ Illucesco _ and  _ Inlucisco _ come to mind), it makes sense that Monkstanley would avoid these entirely, particularly in such a volatile environment as the DoM. It would be interesting to know whether she would have created  _ Lumos _ if the spell known as ‘Bluebell Flames’ had been created prior to 1772. As the story goes, Ms. Monkstanley was searching for a dropped quill (some sources list it as being made of glass, and thus too fragile for  _ Accio, _ but as Monkstanley was known to avoid  _ Accio  _ as a general rule, I dismiss this as apocryphal), and in frustration, she cast the  _ Lumos _ spell in front of witnesses.
> 
> There is another apocryphal story about this event that claims that Monkstanley, as an Unspeakable, had traveled forward in time and discovered the standard use of  _ Lumos, _ and simply forgot herself in casting it where others could see. This cannot be discounted as complete fantasy given the secrecy around the job itself.
> 
> In looking for obscure versions of  _ Lumos _ to tell you about, I came across a quite interesting variation that I feel certain most of you have never heard of. Many regions of Europe had their own colloquial versions of light spells, though most were designed to be used like matches, conjuring actual fire with which to light lanterns. In one region of France, though, there was a spell variation that had a unique quirk. We know that spells require a certain level of caster intent in order to work, and that has led to the reality that most common spells’ language is quite crude, and hardly ever has any nuance. This is by design, and the spell I’m about to tell you about is one of the reasons why.
> 
> _ Ardi Clare _ is a simple spell at its heart. It conjures a brilliant light at one’s wand tip, quite similar to  _ Lumos. _ The spell is unpredictable when cast by someone who is distracted by strong romantic feelings, however. The base word ‘ardor’ has multiple meanings, including fire, passion, and light. With the addition of ‘clarity,’ you can see how a person meaning to illuminate their wand might find themselves casting an arc of light that lands in a tall beam on the person they’re passionately in love with.
> 
> The Greeks’ multiple words for love help to illuminate the problem with  _ Ardi Clare. _ The community where it was most prevalent has always been home to an older, more settled population. In that area,  _ pragma, _ the love experienced in a long-standing relationship, and  _ agape, _ the love of one’s neighbors and friends were the most typical forms of love. The trigger for  _ Ardi Clare _ is  _ eros: _ wild, passionate love.  _ Ardi Clare  _ was most commonly used during 1600’s, during which time most young couples were contractually bound in matrimony. As such, its unpredictability was hardly ever observed.
> 
> Two separate historians have written about the moment  _ Ardi Clare _ became known as an unpredictable and possibly dangerous spell. One by the name of Rivain Cristophe claimed a personal association with the village of Blesle, where he claims this event happened. A wealthy local merchant’s daughter was betrothed to the richest landowner in the area, and at their wedding, Cristophe claims that the groom’s younger brother extinguished all lanterns in the church. He then cast  _ Ardi Clare _ , causing a brilliant beam of light extending from his outstretched wand to illuminate the bride. A Wizard’s Duel erupted between the brothers, ending in the death of the heir. Both Rivain Cristophe and a later historian of magic in that area of France count this as a win for everyone involved, with the spell itself being banned from further use.
> 
> Readers, a strong passion is a must for this spell to be anything more than a novel alternative to  _ Lumos. _ If you feel you have enough ardor to cast the rarer version to the delight of your loved one, the wand movements are shown in an insert below. Focus on  _ Ardi’s  _ connection to love in particular, and remember that  _ ‘Clare’  _ in Latin is a two syllable word. Personally, as I have never cast the spell, I cannot vouch for how bright the resulting beam of light is, so take care to keep your casting hand lifted up to prevent blinding your one true love.

* * *

 

If Remus had been  _ anyone _ else, she would have suspected that he had set her up to read the article.

Elodie didn’t know how long it had taken her to read, and she didn’t think she wanted Remus to know that she had. She found a thick folder in his bag and tucked the finished article inside it, knowing that Remus wouldn’t see it as an imposition if it protected his hard work from getting wrinkled. 

She was distracted when she pushed out of Remus’s room to rush into the living room. The door swung wide, and thanks to the slightly uneven foundation, the weight of the door pulled it back toward closing, where it creaked. Elodie winced, but she didn’t slow her pace. She’d cast a spell localized around Sirius’s door, where the noise from outside wouldn’t penetrate, but she’d be able to hear him call for help if he needed it. Remus wasn’t already at the Floo when she settled into her couch seat, but the fire flared up within a minute or two.

Remus stepped through, and she was surprised to see him, but realized that there wasn’t any other way for the briefcase to be transferred to him, unless she brought it to him.

“You have it? Thank you,” he said, hurriedly. “I’ll be back late, most likely. Good night.”

As soon as the brightness from Floo travel had faded, she grabbed the Muggle pen she kept on her end table, and conjured a piece of paper. Then, she wrote down  _ Ardi Clare. _

Two realizations hit her at the same time.

One, Remus wouldn’t have written the spell into his beloved column if he didn’t believe it really did what he had said it did. That meant he believed in a spell that would unequivocally show someone’s true love for someone in a demonstrable way.

Two, it was too late for her to use it.


	32. Good Idea, Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie gives Sirius a really good idea for a Christmas present for Harry, but her idea of a present for Sirius gets rejected as too risky by Remus.

 

Elodie woke up on the twelfth of December determined to finish up with her Christmas plans. She also wanted to kiss Sirius.

This was becoming a problem, and it was only Day Three of her Moving On tour. Not to mention the fact that the article she was probably not supposed to read had been painful in terms of that missed opportunity. How long before she baked Gâteaufidél had Remus known about  _ Ardi Clare? _ Had the two of them both been hoarding their little spells and recipes of proof without being open and honest and  _ believing _ each other from the first? That was one of the things she found refreshing about Sirius. 

“Since when do I start measuring things by a Sirius metric?!” Elodie asked herself. That just made her think about him  _ more, _ not that she minded today. It was a shift, though not an unwelcome one, if it made her grin like this every morning.

She got up, grabbing her wand to cast a warming charm, because even with her cozy deep rug, the floor today was  _ freezing. _

There was a tap at the door, and Elodie instinctively called out, “Come in?” before she really thought about how she was dressed, and whether her hair was presentable.

It was Sirius.

She tried not to smile, but resistance was futile.

“Good morning,” he said. He was wearing sweatpants, and they weren’t tight, but they didn’t seem to fit properly, either. They were slung dangerously low, she noticed. The shirt he was wearing was the same one she’d slept in the one time. Just looking at him made her hyper aware about how much she wanted to kiss him right now. Awareness pooled low, and she noticed how thin her nightdress was, how it showed the way her body was starting to respond to him. With Sirius, she didn’t feel like she  _ had _ to hide that; she knew he’d never pull away from her and make her feel punished for it. She kind of hid her reactions anyway, though, by pulling her blanket up and around her shoulders. It was  _ Day Three, _ after all. There was no need to be so eager, she reminded herself.

“Morning!” she said, her happy grin at seeing him morphing into teasing suspicion. “Something you wanted?”

“Yes.” He walked over and his eyebrows shot up, seeming to ask if he could sit beside her on the bed.

_ YES! _ every part of Elodie seemed to want to reply. “Uh, okay?” she said out loud.

Sirius sat, his right hand reaching behind her to support his slight lean as he faced her.

“Are you going to keep showing up earlier and earlier?” she asked. Her voice sounded almost sultry, and she covered her eyes in embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to ask it like  _ that! _

“Yes,” Sirius answered her. His voice was low, too.

She moved her hand away from her eyes only slightly. “You are irrepressible,” she accused.

_ “Yes,” _ Sirius said for the third time. He shook his head like Padfoot, and his black shaggy hair cascaded down and around his eyes as he leaned his head down and peered at her from behind the curtain of hair. He started toward her, and she laughed.

“You’re just trying to get me to touch you more,” she accused him.

Sirius opened his mouth to answer her, and she just knew he was just going to simply say ‘yes’ again, and she wasn’t going to let him.

“I know,” she said, interrupting him before he was able to say it. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said, brushing his hair back from his face with each repetition, until she was inches away from kissing him, and all of his hair was pushed away and caught under her hands where they framed his face. “Kiss me?” she whispered.

She tugged at him gently, and his grey eyes caught the light from her window, twinkling with mirth as he resisted her just long enough to say, “Yes.”

Despite how turned on she was, Elodie didn’t try to ramp up the kiss the second their lips met. They were sitting on her  _ bed, _ after all. What happened instead was almost more intense, though. The kiss was brief and gentle, and instead of drawing back, Sirius pressed forward for another one that was equally sweet. Each kiss built on the previous, as if they were drunk on each other. What had her heart racing was the way Sirius pushed closer against her each time, like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t let go of her. 

Except, he wasn’t holding her.  _ She _ was holding him, now, with one arm curled around his neck, her side resting against his arm as it held them up. This had passed a kiss a day and was verging on a fortnight’s worth, and she didn’t care. These deep, loving kisses were dragging her heart away from where she’d kept it as if it were Buckbeak’s food bag, tug after tug, rearranging everything.

It was like Sirius knew he could use magic to woo her, but he was doing it the hard way, bit by bit. It was  _ working. _

Finally, she pulled back, her emotions too overwhelmed to keep stroking at them like this. Elodie couldn’t meet his eyes, because she was afraid he’d see how moved she had been by that moment. It was ridiculous to think he’d missed it, she knew, but somehow, making eye contact would make it all too real.

“What were you going to do today?” he asked her then, the mundane-ness of the question freeing her to look at him with fond exasperation. There was far too much fondness on display and not nearly enough exasperation, but there wasn’t much she could do about that, right now.

“I need to finish my Christmas present plans, actually. Are you  _ really  _ trying to hold an ordinary conversation on my bed after covering the next two weeks’ worth of kisses?!” she asked him.

Sirius let his eyes go wide, but she could tell he wasn’t genuinely upset.  _ “Two weeks?” _ he protested. Then, he smiled at her, all signs of false concern wiped away by confidence. “You aren’t that cruel. Besides, you’d be punishing yourself, too.” He knew her pretty well, though, because the next thing he said changed the subject back to presents. “What have you picked out already?”

She scooted away from the wall and swung her feet back down onto her rug. “I’m almost done with the potions I made for Albus. I’m giving him a foot rest that holds ten small potion vials, with stuff students might need if they came to the Headmaster’s Office,” she said. “Nothing that would need a nurse or anything, but a child’s dose of Dreamless Sleep, Skin Bonding Potion for minor scrapes, Pepper-Up, things like that. The foot rest goes under his desk. The one he has is falling apart!”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Sirius said. “Anything for Remus yet?”

Elodie stood up and walked over to where her clothes were hanging. “I plan on framing his first couple of published articles in a nice wooden display for his room.” She picked out a long, flowy skirt for ease of dressing, and pulled it on. Given how long the nightgown she was wearing had been, Sirius didn’t see anything. He was frowning at her, and she smiled sweetly back.

“Can I steal your idea? I am utter shit at present giving. I also can’t go out to actually  _ buy _ anything, but I think I could make a frame, and I made sure to order extra copies of the newspaper as soon as he was hired.”

She thought about it. There was probably something else she could think of for Remus. She definitely did  _ not _ want to do a ‘housemates’ gift, though. That would look too much like a couples present, and that wasn’t what they were. Yet.

“Yes, if you turn around and put my blanket over your head so I can get the rest of the way dressed,” Elodie told Sirius. When he immediately covered his head with her blanket, she added, “And turn around?” His huff of frustration told her he had been planning something.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t already seen her chest, but there was something more weighty about changing clothes in front of someone you’d kissed, Elodie thought. She ducked behind her curtain and put on a bra, knowing that if Sirius _did_ see her hiding, he couldn’t complain that he hadn’t needed to cover his head without giving himself away. The shirt she’d grabbed in a hurry was long-sleeved but skimpy, and she actually cast a bit of an enlarging spell on the lace that made up the neckline, trying to get a bit more coverage. Then, she walked over to Sirius, thinking she’d pull the blanket off of his head. He didn’t see her hide behind the curtain, so he didn’t know that she hadn’t trusted him not to look.

Elodie’s hand hovered over the blanket right as she had an idea. The very next second, Sirius (who had clearly heard her approach, and had probably been waiting to see what she was going to do) reached out, still covered by the blanket, and grabbed her, pulling her up onto the bed with him like some kind of moss-covered sea monster with its prey. It was scary for ten seconds, then hilarious for thirty more, as Sirius couldn’t get back out of the blanket.

“Don’t vanish it!” Elodie shrieked, seeing him fumble for his wand. “Hold still!”

Once she’d gotten him freed, Sirius no longer looked like a swamp creature but an electrostatic experiment gone wrong, instead. His black hair was alternatively matted against his head and spread out, standing on end in thin strands that fanned out in all directions. She couldn’t see his expression, but could picture it perfectly, especially when she sat back down on her feet in the kneeling position she’d ended up in, and reached out to hover her hand over his head to influence his static-ed hair to follow her movement.

“That… wasn’t ideal,” Sirius finally admitted. It was so adorably disgruntled that she fell onto her side onto the bed, laughing. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel him moving on the bed, and when she opened her eyes, he was lying on his side, his back to the wall, facing her.

“I take it back,” she said, wiping away the tears of laughter that had collected in the corners of her eyes. “You can’t have my present.”

“What!” Sirius said.

“I’ve thought of a way better one for you. Trust me,” she told him. “You’ll need to write Harry today, though, for it to work.”

“Tell me?” Sirius asked her. She wanted to tell him they should get out of her bedroom, out of her  _ bed, _ but she felt almost like the two of them were having a bonding moment, and the last thing she wanted to do was say anything that implied there was something wrong or tawdry about that.

“Okay, this…” She stopped talking because she needed to gather her thoughts about the idea a bit, first.

Sirius reached over and pushed back a strand of hair that had gotten stuck against her forehead. “Start from the beginning,” he instructed her, smiling with the clear knowledge that she almost never did that at first.

“Right, the beginning, right,” she said, trying to collect her thoughts and rewind them to the correct place. “So, I don’t think Remus was ever told what happened the night Peter got away. I don’t think anyone was willing to remind him, because he’d forgotten that last dose of Wolfsbane.”

Sirius’s eyes had widened when she first spoke, but his expression was more interest than shock by the time she said ‘Wolfsbane.’ “That’s right, you know about all of that. Go on,” he said.

“I think you should write to Harry and ask him to write you a recollection from the point that the full moon rose that night. For Remus.” Elodie turned more fully onto her side to look at Sirius, her fingers toying with one of the corners of the blanket that lay in disarray on the bed between them. “I’m certain he thinks of that as one of the worst nights of his life. You can rehabilitate it, with a message from Harry and a talk about that night, because, Sirius--” she smiled like someone who knew a secret, because she  _ did. _ “You were even passed out, by then, but maybe Harry told you? He cast a Patronus to protect you from the Dementors that night. He cast a Patronus at thirteen years old, because  _ Remus taught him how.” _

“Harry said he’d saved me from the Dementors, but there wasn’t time to go into it,” Sirius said. He wasn’t looking at her, but past her, at the wall or something behind her head. She hoped he wasn’t picturing one of the more awful parts of that evening.

“I’m not sure there’s any one person, besides maybe Harry, that knows everything about what happened that night. I think it would help Remus though, don’t you? To have a reason to feel good about something that happened that night? He helped Harry save you. A fully corporeal Patronus is quite an achievement at that age.”

Now, Sirius looked at her. There was a hint of happiness on his face, but it was warring with a haunted, frightened expression. “How close did I come?”

She leaned over and kissed his lips gently, quickly, comfortingly. “Close. Thank goodness for the time turner, we’ll say.” As she had hoped, her unexpected gesture helped distract him.

“That is a really good present, Ellie. Are you sure you don’t want credit?”

“No, I’m not even supposed to know any of it happened in the first place!” she pointed out. Then, she reached out and grasped his shoulder tightly. “Please don’t  _ ever _ tell Remus about the books, and what I know, okay? Please?” The fear that he could have already done so between their conversation outside and now hit her like a hurricane, and she held her breath as if she were hiding in the eye of the storm, waiting to hear his response.

“If you’re that worried about it, I won’t,” Sirius said. He looked a bit taken aback. “Why would it be fine to tell me, but not him?”

“His name,” Elodie said, simply. Sirius shook his head, and she let go of his shoulder and rubbed her hand over her face to try to metaphorically wipe away her unfounded fear about his having already told Remus. “‘Remus Lupin,’ Sirius. ‘Remus’ is the twin brother of the founder of Rome. The brothers were literally raised by wolves. ‘Lupin’ is--”

“Right,” Sirius interrupted. “Another wolf association.”

“His name implies he was destined to be bitten, because he was  _ written _ to be,” Elodie said, swallowing back her emotional reaction to the words she was saying. “Given how much he hates that aspect of himself, I can’t imagine his reaction to knowing what I know. I am never going to tell him. Ever.”

“I hear you on this, but coincidences happen, don’t they?” Sirius said, clearly struggling with how unequivocal she was. “How are you so sure he’d--”

“Alastor  _ Moody.” _ Elodie started listing in a steady, unhappy tone.  _ “Quirinus _ Quirrell, who was afraid of his own shadow. Cornelius  _ Fudge, _ the Minister of Magic who screws everything up. It’s a kid’s book series, and a lot of the character names are related to the core of the character’s personality.” She could see that Sirius wasn’t truly convinced, yet.  _ “Sirius. _ The  _ dog _ star.”

Sirius turned over onto his back, at hearing that, and he reached over and grabbed her hand, placing it on his chest, with both of his on top of it. He was silent for a long time, during which she could feel his heart racing.

“Bloody hell,” he finally said. “It’s not just names, Elodie. It was  _ right there _ the whole time: Peter was a rat.”

She scooted over with her pillow to rest her head close to his. “You can’t take this and apply it like hindsight, Sirius. Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Everyone is the hero of their own story?’ No one should expect that their life is a  _ literal _ story.”

Sirius turned his head and looked at her, the pain in his eyes written large. “Does Peter come back? He does, doesn’t he?”

Elodie thought about it, knowing he would be able to read into her facial expressions. Peter would be in the graveyard with Harry, after the maze task in the Tournament. Peter would kill Cedric Diggory. Eventually, Peter would die, his hesitation to kill Harry being the reason his magical hand gifted to him by Voldemort ends his life.

“You look a bit bloodthirsty, Ellie. This is encouraging,” Sirius said, a lethal sort of smile creeping up onto his face as he looked at her.

“He comes back,” she confirmed. “He hesitates to kill an older Harry, years from now in a confrontation. Voldemort kills him for being too weak.”

“Harry hesitated, Peter hesitated,” Sirius whispered, almost to himself. “Does it hurt? Was it Avada?” he asked, his grey eyes searching hers as if he could find the answer written on the back of them.

“I don’t want to foster any kind of revenge fantasy, despite how reasonable that is,” she said, frowning.

_ “Does it hurt?” _ Sirius said, starting to look manic, now. It was the kind of look that she knew would consume him, if she couldn’t derail it now. Kissing him, comforting him, those wouldn’t do it. She knew what to say, as much as it worried her to encourage him.

“Strangulation is painful and slow, yes.”

He angled up to kiss her, but she shook her head. Her uncertainty at his behavior must have shown on her face, as when she immediately went to get up, he kissed her hand, instead.

“Thank you, Ellie. You are the  _ real _ Guardian around here.”

The call back to her nickname for Padfoot was a nice way to ease her mind about how upset he was, and Elodie felt better about how close to a manic episode Sirius had come. 

8888888888888888

When Elodie got upstairs, Remus came stomping out of his room with a scroll in his hand. She moved out of his way and he went straight for the kettle.

“Bad news?” she asked, trying to remember what it might be, from the books.

“Of a kind,” Remus answered. “My editor loved the column I wrote.”

Elodie didn’t say she’d read it, but she did agree that it was a good one. She just said, “Well, that’s good, right?”

“Right, except he liked it so much he wants to save it for mid-February. So instead of having a column written to publish in a week, as I’d planned, I need to write a completely new one in time for Christmas,” he said, sighing. “I was looking forward to being done for a few weeks. All the non essential columns are put on hiatus between the twentieth of December and the tenth of January. It’s a paid vacation, and mine was supposed to start today.”

She understood his editor’s decision, but was sad that it made more work for Remus. The  _ Lumos  _ column was  _ perfect _ for Valentine’s Day, but she wasn’t supposed to have read it in the first place, so encouraging him about that was  _ right out _ .

“Do you have any ideas you’ve been holding onto? Are there any traditional Christmas spells here in the UK?” she suggested. “Something that reveals hidden presents, or stops someone from opening it early?”

“Hmm,” Remus said, lost in thought and facing away from the basement door when Sirius happened to come through it, to Elodie’s great relief. Sirius must have seen Elodie’s look of relief, too, because he walked around her, doing a loop that led to him looking like he had just walked into the kitchen from the living room. She reminded herself that there was nothing wrong with a visit from a housemate to her room, even though it was a room with a bed in it, and the housemate was someone who had professed love for her, and who she looked forward to kissing.  _ Argh! _ she thought to herself.

“Christmas spells? Like for mistletoe?” Sirius asked, obliterating Elodie’s sense of goodwill in one word. She glared at him from behind Remus’s back.

“Oh, good morning, Sirius,” Remus said, still clearly lost in thought and missing the undercurrent of amused hostility in the room. “There’s one for  _ Stupefy _ I was thinking of writing about. It creates a cone of loud sound that is overwhelming, similar to the stun in  _ Stupefy. Obtundo.” _

“Might not be an ideal read for parents, but as someone with a brother, that would have come in handy,” Sirius said.

“Hmmm.” Remus wandered into the living room and grabbed his notebook, paging through it presumably to find his notes on  _ Obtundo. _

“Only child?” Sirius asked her, smiling with a knowing expression. Elodie frowned at him.

“I don’t think I like your tone,” she said, turning her back on him and heading over to her bookcase. 

“Definitely an only child,” Sirius said, laughing.

8888888888888888

The next few days for Elodie involved finishing up various potions in the third cauldron in her potions lab for Christmas presents, mostly for Albus. She took to putting wards on her bedroom door with a note that stated clearly, ‘I want to sleep in, Sirius Black!’ to dissuade him from waking her up early in the morning for their ‘contract.’ She had half expected to trip on him in Padfoot form sleeping against her door, that first day, but Sirius got the message for the most part. By the fifteenth of 

December, she’d gone out in the light snowfall to see if he was in his shed, despite the fact that he had told them that the motorcycle was basically finished. He wasn’t there, though, and she pulled her charmed winter coat back around her body and trudged back into the house.

Elodie had a strange pet peeve. She had always found the sound of footsteps in snow extremely irritating, and today was no exception. Today, though, she was a  _ witch. _ A witch who could cast a muffling spell on her shoes and stop herself from having to hear the sound. She was alone outside in her short walk, too, so there wasn’t anyone to make fun of her for such a ridiculous use of magic.

What the muffling spell meant, though, was that when she came back into the house and heard her housemates talking in the kitchen, they didn’t hear  _ her. _

She was about to announce her presence by casting  _ Finite _ when she heard her name.

“I need to tell you: you’re going to have to disappoint Elodie in regards to your Christmas present, if it is what I think it is,” Remus was saying.

“Oh?” Sirius said.

“I think, but I’m not completely sure, that it’s Polyjuice Potion.”

In the far corner of the living room, by the front door, Elodie winced as she took off her shoes. Remus was right, and she’d been hoping he wouldn’t object to the gift.

“You think she’s giving me that so… what? I can go out?” Sirius sounded excited, but she didn’t hear what Remus muttered in response, and whatever it was clearly dashed Sirius’s hopes. “It might be worth the risk! She says it’s fooled powerful enough people before. At a place as busy as Diagon--”

_ Now _ Remus was loud enough to be heard throughout the house as he interrupted Sirius. “Your life is too valuable to us for you to risk it on some sort of  _ adventure, _ and I’m sorry if that’s inconvenient, but alive is a damn sight better than back in Azkaban!”

Elodie had never heard Remus that angry before, especially not at someone else. When he was angry at her, it was a simmering, low-grade fever kind of anger. This was Remus at boiling point. It was frightening because he was such a level-headed, reasonable person, but this was also a level-headed, reasonable justification for being angry. And it was her fault.

The guilt she felt for what she’d almost done was overwhelming. Elodie had just wanted to give Sirius hope, but she hadn’t been thinking about the consequences. Sure, Barty Crouch, Jr. was hiding in plain sight as Alastor Moody, but what was it doing to his already half-crazed mind? What was it doing to his body? Did she think that just because he was able to risk his life and freedom at Hogwarts she could risk Sirius’s life and freedom somewhere  _ less safe? _

She jammed her feet back into her shoes, threw on her coat without zipping it or activating the charms, and rushed back outside. Right as the door closed, she heard a male voice calling her name, but she started running as soon as she got down the house stairs.

It wasn’t  _ very _ cold, but it was cold enough that she could see her breath, cold enough to be snowing more heavily, and definitely cold enough that the tears that fell onto her cheeks were extremely uncomfortable. As Elodie ran for the grove of trees she liked to walk through and hunt for herbs in, she thought about wiping them away and using her wand to activate her coat’s warming charms. But Sirius didn’t have any comfort when he was in Azkaban, did he? He didn’t have a wand, there. Were there even any wandless warmth charms, or did he have to be grateful for his Animagus form to curl up and keep himself warm?

How difficult had those first few transformations been, for Sirius, during his first weeks at Azkaban? How long had he waited to transform? Did transforming remind him of Peter and James? 

Running away in snow, in what was essentially a cinematic universe was basically begging to trip and fall, and Elodie wasn’t surprised when she slid on a patch of snowed-on moss and went down. Her knee hurt where she’d landed on it, and she knew she was going to be soaking wet before too long, but it felt appropriate, really.

Elodie raised a hand to wipe off her face and realized that in breaking her fall with her knee and hands, she’d gotten them all snow muddy. She shook her head and tried to wipe one of them off enough to grab her wand from her pocket without getting mud everywhere. She cleaned her hands off with a  _ Scourgify _ and decided she’d sit and wait for Sirius, so she could apologize. In the meantime, she was going to finish up her cry. Elodie was a melodramatic person anyway, and sitting in the snow crying, with a painful ankle, after realizing she’d been an utter  _ asshole _ and waiting to apologize… well, that was too perfect to pass up.

It wasn’t Sirius, though. It was Remus.

“Hi,” he said, walking up to her in that unhurried way he had. It was completely unfair of him to be able to do that even in the  _ snow, _ she thought. He wasn’t wearing a coat, either.

“I wasn’t running because I thought someone was following me,” Elodie sniffed. “I’m perfectly capable of running off into the wilderness without an escort, you know.”

“I know,” Remus said.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked him, aware that she sounded angry and petulant, but unsure of how to alter how she felt enough to avoid that.

“A little,” he allowed. “Are  _ you?” _

“Yes,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Come home?” he asked, holding out his hand for her.

“I’m all muddy, and covered in snow, and I almost got Sirius sent back to Azkaban because I’m  _ selfish,” _ Elodie said, miserably.

“The reason I told him about what I found without you around for the conversation was specifically because I didn’t want you to feel selfish, Elodie,” Remus said. There was absolutely no hint of his anger in the kitchen, and she was confused and disoriented by the combination of the cold snow she was still sitting in, and his seeming change of heart. “It was a kind and thoughtful idea, except for how risky it is. I’m sorry I ruined your present.”

Elodie looked at his hand, and she looked at Remus, who had only just then started to shiver. His kindness was making her guilt flood back, which she now understood wasn’t the reaction he wanted, from her.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” she sobbed into her hands. “I’m supposed to be feeling better by now, but I’m a complete mess.”

“Oh, Ellie,” Remus said. Then, to her utter shock, he came over and picked her up. “Hook your arm around my neck?”

“Shit, Remus, put me down, I’m going to get you soaking wet with snow and tears!” she protested.

“What is it with you and worrying about getting me messy?” he asked her in a teasing voice. “I’m not putting you down. If you don’t hold onto me you’ll just make it more difficult for me.”

“You’re a bully, Remus Lupin. I think you learned how as a Prefect. You  _ look _ like you’re doing it for everyone’s good, but  _ really…” _

Remus looked down at her and lifted one eyebrow. Her heart leaped in her throat as she realized she absolutely still loved him. The feeling wasn’t as acute as it was just two weeks before, as if the feelings were being shielded by something in the way, but they were definitely still there. Elodie put her arm around his shoulder and he started for the house.

She wondered if Remus would have done this for her if they hadn’t both basically shut the door on her feelings for him. It was clear to her that the door  _ she _ shut wasn’t as opaque as she had hoped, but she was more worried about Sirius than herself. 

“I can walk, you know,” she said, once they’d left the grove of trees and the ground was more flat.

“Can you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Have you tried, since you fell?”

“Well,  _ no,” _ she prevaricated, but he gave a little sharp nod that said he considered the subject closed.

“‘Smug’ isn’t a good look for you, you know,” Elodie said, trying to puncture his bubble at least slightly. Remus, however, was still a step ahead of her.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t get to wear it much before I met you,” he said, smiling down at her with a big grin that was even more insufferable than the smug little one. All she could do in response was harrumph.

Elodie had planned to ask him to put her down when they got to the stairs that led up to the front door, but when she got there, Sirius was standing at the door and opened it for them. Then, even more embarrassingly, Remus held onto her as Sirius took her shoes off. 

“I just tripped, you two, cut it out!”

“Are you trying to rob me of the chance to play savior?” Sirius asked her, an exaggerated wounded hand clasped to his chest as he said it.

“Remus already played the Colonel Brandon role,” Elodie said archly, guessing that Sirius had  _ probably _ not read Sense and Sensibility. Remus busied himself by hanging up her coat as Sirius helped her to her seat and took out his wand to cast an anti-swelling spell on her ankle, so she couldn’t see his reaction. She felt impish and empowered, so she added, “Though, you rejected me, Remus, so I guess that makes you Willoughby, doesn’t it?”

“Are you trying to out swot Remus with your lit knowledge?” Sirius asked her after he re-examined her ankle post-spell. Elodie looked at him in shock, and his answering grin was self-satisfied.

“Sirius read a bit of Jane Austen in seventh year while trying to get in some Muggleborn girls’ good graces,” Remus explained. He walked past them on the way to his chair, and Sirius ducked without even turning around, somehow knowing  _ exactly _ when Remus tried to smack his head. Their friend choreography was as beautiful to watch as it was potentially violent, Elodie thought.

“I imagine it didn’t hurt at all that she’s a Muggle author. Or is she?” Elodie asked.

“Definitely Muggle.” Sirius answered instead of Remus. “I think she would have had more fun writing about Pureblood aristocracy during that time, if she’d known about it.”

“That makes me wonder,” Elodie said. “Are there any authors that are well known in the Muggle world, who wrote Muggle books, but were actually magical? I could imagine authors like J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis wouldn’t have had to change their books substantially for a Muggle audience.” She looked up at Remus with hope in her eyes. “What if there are books by famous authors I don’t even remember aren’t Muggle?” 

She’d had to change her sentence at the last minute, from ‘I don’t even know about’ to ‘don’t remember,’ because of course, Remus didn’t know she was originally a Muggle.

“Roald Dahl,” Remus shocked her by saying. “He has a whole magical book series, with moving illustrations. I loved them as a kid.” Elodie stared at him with her mouth open, and Remus looked like he was delighted to have surprised her. “If that’s the reaction I get, I’ll have to go look for all the dual published authors!”

“Too bad you can’t just Google that!” Elodie said. This earned her two blank looks from her housemates. “Never mind,” she had to tell them, shaking her head.


	33. Early Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Arthur drop by to exchange gifts early, and Elodie heads off a Sirius meltdown after he's reminded who Slytherin's Head of House is at Hogwarts.

 

The next day Elodie wrote a letter to Horace, hinting at his present. She knew just what language to use about it that would make him excited about it, not that she had to talk it up, much.

 

> Dear Horace,
> 
> I have a Christmas present for you that will knock your socks off. The only problem with it is that some of the aspects of it are very confidential. I think I’ll have to ask you to take a Wizard’s Oath to promise not to reveal my name or the other persons involved, but I promise I’ll talk about it with you! It’s just that this might be worth an article in that Potions magazine you showed me once, but I don’t want to risk my anonymity. I hope you’ll understand.
> 
> In related news, I was able to successfully attune anger, love, and a few other middle-ground emotions with the Attunement Potion you taught me. I think you must be right in that I have a natural aptitude for this stuff, because the attunement felt easy, at the time, and the recipe, while technically difficult, did not give me the kind of grief I had anticipated! I can only conclude that I have one of the best teachers around, along with some minor native ability.
> 
> Can you picture my grin? I’m grinning at you.
> 
> Let me know when I can come over and show you what I made. I can’t wait to see your face!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Elodie

 

She had thought long and hard about whether she should show Horace the results of the Gâteaufidél, and concluded that it was exactly the sort of amazing result he would completely love. It wasn’t necessary for him to involve the actual names to write about a ‘witch [I] encountered, who had such affection for two separate wizards that during attunement, she accidentally managed to attune her love for both men into the batter, so that both were able to pick up the resulting biscuits.’

One of the main reasons she wanted him to write about it, too, was the fact that Remus was a werewolf. A woman so in love with a werewolf that she could bake Gâteaufidél would not only be  _ interesting, _ but it might also help lift the stigma that small amount, too. The Wizard’s Oath, a ‘Unbreakable Vow Lite,’ as one of her books had called it, was a binding by magic that didn’t kill the person who violated it, but it did make them unable to speak, write, or otherwise communicate for a period of two weeks. This stricture was not lifted by one violation, either--so Horace would find himself in the same pickle if he were to break the Vow again after his two weeks were up.

Elodie intended to use the book she’d borrowed on precise language for Wizard’s Vows, so that Horace could speak more broadly about a ‘foreign Potions Master’ he knows (but not their name), and about the werewolf without naming him, either. She didn’t intend to even  _ hint _ that the third party involved was a fugitive, or anything that might give away that it was Sirius Black. Horace was a smart enough man, and he might have figured out that the werewolf was the Professor Lupin from Hogwarts the school year prior.

She looked at her list, putting a conditional check mark beside Horace’s name. She’d finished Albus’s present, was going to pick up the carved wood display case she’d ordered in Diagon Alley for Remus’s framed articles, and she’d mail ordered a super soft yarn for Molly from America, hoping there would be time for her to make herself a fancy scarf with it. For Arthur, she’d gotten a  _ 1994 Guiness Book of World Records, _ and she couldn’t wait to see whether he would enjoy it. The only person left to figure out a present for was Sirius.

Though she would finish the Polyjuice Potion and bottle it up, Elodie wasn’t going to give it to Sirius as a present, not after seeing Remus’s worry about it. Knowing that there was a Polyjuiced Alastor Moody walking around a secure place like Hogwarts around wise people like Minerva and Albus was one thing, for Elodie, but after what Remus had lost in his life, she completely understood his reticence. Polyjuice was, she’d seen in her research before brewing it, mostly viewed as a novelty item. It was sold at Zonko’s Joke Shop under a weaker version that only lasted for ten minutes! The idea that a Death Eater could infiltrate Hogwarts using it was basically unthinkable, and thus, it was beyond comprehension for Remus to trust it was enough of a disguise for Sirius to safely go out without being discovered.

Elodie was distracted from this train of thought by the sound of one of the bedroom doors opening.

“I like that owl,” Sirius said, stretching as he walked out of the hallway.  _ “That _ owl knows how to let a man sleep.”

“Hedwig?” Elodie guessed.

“No, I think Harry’s afraid to use his own owl for fear it’ll give me away. This seems to be a ordinary Hogwarts owl,” Sirius said, flopping onto the couch. Elodie knew that this particular couch had survived the Gryffindor common room for however many years before it had been put into storage, but she still winced every time Sirius did that. “I bet it got so much shit from students that it doesn’t even start delivering until at least eight.”

“I’m glad you got a chance to sleep in,” she said. “It looks like a few pages long, that letter.”

“Yes, it’s Harry’s part of the Christmas gift,” Sirius confirmed. 

He rubbed the corner of his eye with a knuckle, and Elodie realized he must have read it already, and had been a bit overcome. He was hiding it well, but she knew him. She set down her own notebook and scooted over on the couch to where she could duck under his arm and hug him. He wasn’t completely dressed; Sirius had clearly thrown on a shirt with his typical sleep trousers, and Elodie wondered if he’d not wanted to be alone after reading Harry’s description of casting the Patronus to save him. Sirius kissed the top of her head, and he left his lips there for a few extra seconds. His body tensed up as if he were fighting the urge to be emotional again, and she just ached to take away all of his troubles.

Elodie kissed his chest near where she was resting her head. She shifted her body to kiss farther up on his chest, turning so she was half kneeling. Avoiding his eyes, she kissed his collarbone and said, “I want you to have happy moments that aren’t connected to something so awful. You can feel loved without  _ nearly dying, _ Sirius.”

His arm was still loosely slung around her waist, despite how much she’d shifted positions, and now he tightened it. She slid toward the back of the couch on her knees until she was up against the cushion. His hand slid up from her waist into her hair.

“I can think of a few things that would qualify,” he rumbled at her, pulling her down for a kiss. She went willingly, bracing her hands on the couch and his chest. He was possessive and needy today, and she held onto him more fiercely than normal, wanting to give the very real impression that he affected her, and his attention was welcomed. Her hand on the couch skidded on the smooth fabric, and she slid sideways. Sirius caught her, adjusting his grip easily and mouthing along her neck as she lay across his lap. She opened her eyes and he lifted his head to smile at her. 

“You are ridiculously sexy with that expression,” she told him, reaching up and moving his head out of the way gently as she sat up. “Very distracting. Cut it out, will you?” she teased, kissing his lips again briefly. Then, while he was still trying to figure out what had just happened,  Elodie got up and sat back down on her end of the couch with her notebook.

“Wait,” Sirius said, putting his hands up, palms out in surrender.

Elodie angled her body so she could hold up her notebook like she was actually reading something on it, hiding behind it to giggle.

“No, no, you were just…” he said, sounding confused. “--and then I was?” 

She peeked at Sirius, and he was half laughing now, too.

“You are a  _ wench, _ in the best senses of the word,” Sirius finally said in surrender.

“As an American, I’m not entirely sure I know what you mean by that,” she said, frowning and erasing a line on her notebook about polyjuice with a wave of wandless magic. “Oh yes, I just cast wandless magic, I am an actual witch, what even is my life!” she crowed with excitement.

“That’s right, did that take any getting used to?” Sirius said, alluding to her former Muggle status, she assumed. Elodie glanced around to make sure that Remus wasn’t lurking anywhere, but she heard a mild paper rustling noise from his bedroom, and saw that the door was cracked.

“Not as much as the other way around would have been, that’s for damn sure,” she answered, keeping her voice lower than normal volume just in case. Remus would start his Wolfsbane in a couple of days, so there wasn’t much chance of him overhearing them--and even then, he probably would never guess the actual secret she was keeping from him.

“That reminds me! _ ” _ Sirius said, pushing a black lock of shaggy hair back to look at her more clearly. “That first night, we were talking about  _ Accio. _ That was practically a new spell for you!”

“Pfft,  _ Accio _ feels like an old friend even the first time you cast it, I’d say,” Elodie told him, but inwardly she was impressed that Sirius had remembered that aspect of their first ‘housemates’ conversation. “It takes more time to adjust to actually talking to important characters.”

“Or kissing them?” Sirius asked.

“Also surreal,” she agreed. “I would be the envy of many a fangirl. Though more people would be disappointed and think you belong with someone else,” Elodie told him, glancing meaningfully at Remus’s door.

“Do they  _ really?” _ Sirius asked, sounding not at all deterred. “I actually cannot speak on that subject,” he said. His eyes had widened a bit and his hand had come up to clutch at his throat.

“Wizard’s Oath?!” Elodie asked, her eyes bugging out when he nodded. “Okay, fair enough, new subject, I’d like to hear you talk to me for Christmas, and that’s less than two weeks away,” she said.

“Thank you,” Sirius said, sounding a big strangled. “How about this: what do you want for Christmas?” he asked. That came out much less hoarse and he was visibly relieved.

Elodie wasn’t, though. “Wow. Do you know, I have no idea? It’s like, there are any number of magical things that I’d love to have, but I don’t know they exist! That’s the handicap of becoming magical at a random point in your thirties, I guess.”

“Hmm, now this is my area!” Sirius rubbed his hands together like some sort of cartoon character about to detail a ridiculous list, and Elodie groaned.

“That is a set up for you to be miserably bad at suggesting things, you do know that, right?”

“Nonsense,” Sirius said. He put his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs in front of him, closing his eyes and tipping his head back for a few seconds. “Right, what would most new witches want, starting out in life?” 

“Sirius,” Elodie started to say, but he refused to allow himself to be dissuaded.

_ “Daily Prophet  _ subscription? Wait, we already get that,” he said, frowning, his eyes still shut. “Wait, what was that book Lily used to threaten James with? Miss Maisy…” Sirius scrunched up his eyes in concentration, and Elodie saw Remus coming out of his room, putting one finger in front of his lips.

_ “Miss Maisie’s Amazing, Hair Raising House Spells; Phrasing to Get People Praising!” _ Remus said in a sing-song voice, standing right by Sirius’s ear. 

Sirius must have jumped three full feet in the air.

The string of curses that left his mouth just made Remus’s smile wider, and left Elodie giggling hysterically.

“It was a house-warming gift from the Longbottoms,” Remus said. “Lily laughed for a week straight, just about.”

“James hated it so much I thought he was going to divorce her,” Sirius finally said, glaring at Remus. “You are  _ so _ lucky I didn’t hex your bollocks off, just there!”

“You’d have  _ tried,” _ Remus said confidently. “What do you need Lily’s old book for?”

“Christmas present for Ellie,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus’s eyebrows shot up, and Elodie widened her eyes and shook her head slowly while mouthing ‘help me’ to Remus. She didn’t even bother to hide her reaction from Sirius, who could see her from where he was sitting.

“So, you’re looking to imply that she isn’t good at housekeeping, and needs  _ that _ book to learn how? I thought you liked kissing her,” Remus came right out and said in a confused tone of voice.

“Look, don’t make me invoke Azkaban Brain, Moony,” Sirius threatened. “I remembered an overall sense of amusement, to do with the book. Not the, you know…” he trailed off, snapping his fingers once while clearly looking for a word.

“Title?” Remus supplied drily.

“Azkaban Brain,” Sirius said, waving his hand dismissively.

“It’s the sixteenth of December, Sirius. You don’t have a present for Elodie?” Remus asked. He didn’t stay in the room to wait for a response, instead, he walked into the kitchen for a minute and came back out with one of the last three Gâteaufidél cookies.

“Do  _ you _ have a present for Elodie?” Sirius asked.

Instead of answering, Remus just looked at Sirius instead of walking past, his head tipped to the side as if to say, ‘what do  _ you _ think?’

Sirius made a huffing noise of dismissal and said, “It’s probably a  _ book, _ then. Too easy.”

Before Remus could answer and goad Sirius into some sort of competitive present-giving nonsense, Elodie cut in. “No. Stop. Christmas present gamesmanship is not thing that is going to happen!” She got up and walked over to where Sirius was sitting on the couch with Remus standing beside it looking down at him. “If you insist on making it a competition I’ll just keep Molly’s present for myself and give her whatever you buy me,  _ before _ it’s unwrapped. Got it?”

Both men reluctantly muttered something, but Remus’s smug look as he walked into his bedroom told Elodie that he had  _ totally _ gotten her a book.

8888888888888888

By the nineteenth of December, Sirius had given up trying to kiss her first thing in the morning. Instead, it seemed that he was trying to ambush her with their one kiss a day in the most unexpected ways. The first day of this, it was almost lunch time before Elodie had gone to the bathroom and been pressed up against the wall after she had come out. That had been fun. The second day, Sirius had gone out to shovel snow from the house to the shed, and around Buckbeak, even though there were a number of spells he could have used, instead. He had come back inside, sweating inside his winter coat, and had called her over nonchalantly. He’d waited by the door as she had walked over in full view of Remus.

His lips had been hot, hands cold when he had buried them in her hair. He had probably known she’d watched him shoveling, she’d realized after he walked away from her, loudly telling both Remus and Elodie that he needed a long shower.

Elodie had been so embarrassed she’d actually contemplated Apparating downstairs into her bedroom, but embarrassment was a strong emotion, and she didn’t want to splinch herself  _ again. _

On the twenty-first of December, Elodie finally realized what Sirius was doing.

By making her wonder when he would come to collect his kiss, he was consuming her day with thoughts of him. Specific,  _ physical _ thoughts of him. She was caught in a cycle of anticipation, and she was pretty sure Sirius was doing it on purpose. 

It was with those thoughts foremost in her head that she walked out of the kitchen that afternoon, after having laid out her latest batch of cookies on the cooling racks in the kitchen. As soon as she crossed through into the living room, Sirius caught her in his arms; he’d been waiting for her, out of sight. He swung the two of them in a circle after she’d cried out in surprise.

“What is this, an 80’s movie?” Elodie asked, sliding her arms up to link her hands behind his head. “Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing, you know,” she added.

“What am I doing?” Sirius asked her, tucking one hand into a back pocket of her jeans.

“Uh uh, that’s boyfriend territory,” she objected, reaching around to evict his hand. “You’re varying your kiss collection technique, trying to get me to think about kissing you  _ all day.” _ Elodie told him with perfect confidence.

The slow, delighted smile that crept up in response told her that this was not, in fact, what he’d been doing, but he very much loved that she thought it was.

“I think I like your mental image of me  _ much _ better than actual me,” Sirius said, lowering his head to kiss her. 

“Hello! Is there a chance we can come over with presents today?” Molly’s voice sounded from behind Elodie.

Sirius stepped back immediately, but Elodie was more startled than anything else. She turned around to see that Molly was also shocked, but despite the concerned admonishments she’d offered Elodie in the past, she didn’t look angry or upset, which was gratifying. Elodie wasn’t trying to keep a potential relationship with Sirius a secret or anything, but she certainly wasn’t trying to snog him in front of Molly to announce the possibility!

Sirius recovered first, and he started to walk past Elodie to come closer to the fireplace. She was dizzy on adrenaline, but was greatly soothed by the small kiss he placed on her shoulder as he went past.

“Molly! We’d love a visit. Ellie just baked, though depending on how much of your brood we should expect, we might have to get her to do another batch.”

“Just Arthur and I, Sirius. If Remus is around, that is?” Molly’s face as resurrected in the coals of the fire turned this way and that, looking for their third housemate.

“Remus, you up for a visit from the Weasleys?” Elodie called in the direction of his room. Seconds later, he came out with his wand in hand as he cast a spell to clean ink from his fingers.

“Yes, please do,” Remus told Molly’s head in the fire. She nodded, withdrew, and Elodie covered her face for a quick second.

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” Sirius murmured, looking chagrined.

“I’m not  _ ashamed _ of you, it’s just that in the Muggle world, you get a  _ telephone call, _ not a head in the fire that can see the whole room!” she lamented. “And we’re not, you know, officially a, a--” her hands whirled and twisted in front of her in an attempt to describe a relationship.  _ “Thing _ , which they’re not going to understand, and  _ you’re _ going to get questions and I’m going to get questions and--”

The Floo roared to life again, and Arthur spun out, holding his hand out for Molly as she also spun on the spot when she stepped through. Sirius went over to greet them, and Elodie moved to join him. She got distracted by a look of confusion on Remus’s face, and realized that he didn’t know what they’d been doing when Molly had called. She winced, realizing the way she’d been talking might make it look like they’d been doing something far more risqué than a simple kiss.

Explaining anything to Remus would require explaining it to the entire room, and she wasn’t up for that, so Elodie just dipped her head down to intercept Remus’s fixed gaze at the floor, and smiled encouragingly. His thin smile in response told her there was a conversation to be had, later.

Over by the fireplace, Molly was in tears and had one hand on either side of Sirius’s face.

“--never have hurt James, I should have realized, and you’re probably traumatized by Azkaban and here I am weeping all over you, I’m sorry, you dear boy!” she was saying. This seemed to be the trigger for Arthur to lead her to the couch, and when he saw it, he gave a happy gasp.

“I recognize that! Did Albus let you have it? What a nice thing, a little piece of the common room at home,” Arthur said, seeing their Gryffindor couch.

Elodie had left her notebook on her seat, and she hurried to move it so there would be more space to sit, but Molly caught her hand. She let go when Elodie sat.

“This is clearly your little space, isn’t it? Books stacked up, and three different notebooks. I recognize Bill’s handwriting on that scroll, too,” she said. Elodie was impressed, as the scroll was tucked in the shadow between two books. “Sit down and don’t fuss, Elodie dear. We have presents for you!”

“Oh, but mine for you aren’t wrapped,” Elodie fretted. Molly reached over and grasped both of Elodie’s hands in a strong but not painful grip.

“I get my fill of wrapping paper within one round of present opening at my house during the holidays, Elodie. I’ll manage,” Molly told her firmly. Everyone in the living room laughed. “We’re sorry to come so early, with these, but Charlie is due tomorrow, and Bill in a few days. We don’t like to hide things from family, but Sirius’s location should stay secret.”

“Thank you for that,” Remus said at the same time as Sirius said, “Thanks, you two.”

“Well! How about we hand out ours for you, and after you open them, you can look over them if someone has to run and get something?” Arthur suggested. “We’re grateful to have some more adults around, even if we’re all busy. Remus?” he held out a small package that looked like it could be a book or a small box.

It proved to be a brown paper bag that was tucked around a quill box. “I spoke with Albus after your last visit to Hogwarts,” Molly told Remus as he examined his present with a pleased smile. “He said you have a new job writing a column, and the last few times he’s seen you, you’ve had ink on your fingers. These are good quality charmed quills that are meant not to drip quite so often.”

“Thinking Quills, they’re called,” boomed Arthur happily. “So you can sit and think, holding it up,” he said, miming a hand holding a quill hovering over his hand acting as parchment.

“That is very thoughtful, thank you both,” Remus said, closing the box and holding it to his chest.

“I expect to see what you’ve written, you know!” Molly chided him. The look they shared warmed Elodie’s heart. “Speaking of talking to Albus, this is for you!” Molly told her next, pulling out a gold and crimson scarf. It was handmade, the neat, even stitches displaying Molly’s skill in knitting.

“A Gryffindor scarf! I  _ knew it!” _ Sirius crowed from his place cross-legged on the floor near the hearth.

The scarf was long enough to wrap around her head multiple times and still fold over her chest with the leftovers, and Elodie did just that, also hugging her present to her chest. “This is perfect,” she told Molly, leaning over to rest her head on Molly’s shoulder in a kind of scarf-wrapped sign of affection, before she started to unspool it from around her neck. “It’s very warm!” she said, fanning herself before curling the scarf into a spiral on her lap.

“So is that official, then? Hat and all?” Remus asked.

“Yes, I’ve been claimed, it seems,” she answered, blushing when both Molly and Sirius gave her surprised and amused looks after hearing her say this. There was a bit of an awkward pause in the room until it was broken by Mr. Weasley.

“I found something I thought you might be interested in,” Arthur said, a bit sheepishly. “It’s… here, I’ll just show you. I shrank it,” he explained, pulling a small object from his pocket and standing. After casting the enlarging spell, Arthur hefted the long, complicated object and held it out for her to look at.

At first it looked like a rifle, but on closer inspection, Elodie realized it was a tranquilizer dart gun. One built for big game animals, she surmised. It wasn’t loaded, but when she stood and took the surprisingly heavy gun from Arthur, he immediately reached into his pocket and restored two other objects to their full size: a small case with tranquilizer darts, and a metal bottle with liquid inside.

Elodie was speechless, but she tried not to show how incredulous she was. After all, Arthur Weasley was well known as a lover of all kinds of Muggle contraptions, and she was possibly one of the only adults he knew for sure had strong Muggle ties.

“‘Americans love their guns,’ that’s what Director Lansing says at work!” Arthur said, proudly.

“In all honesty, this is amazing, Arthur,” Elodie told him. “I don’t want to knock it over or anything, I’m going to take it downstairs with its pieces until I think of the best place to keep it around here, is that all right? Then I can grab your presents, too.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” Molly told her. The other woman’s voice sounded mildly relieved, and Elodie smiled and shook her head once she was on the stairs down to her bedroom. That was the most unexpectedly batshit present in a field of possibly batshit presents, that was for sure! She was really glad for the Weasley’s surprise visit.

She grabbed the yarn and book she’d planned to wrap for them, after setting down her new tranq gun and supplies in the corner and spelling them immobile. When she got upstairs, she saw that Sirius was modeling new leather gloves.

“Look,” Sirius said, flexing his hands at her. “Motorcycle gloves!”

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think of that!” she said, half happy, half feeling guilty. “It’s not like you can buy your own cycling gear. What a perfect present!”

“It’s not your job to keep me safe, you know,” Sirius teased.

“You’re saying that because you’re all the way across the room from me  _ and _ we have company,” Elodie told him, narrowing her eyes at him as she did so often when he teased her.

“Yes,” he admitted readily. “Go on, give Arthur his present, I’ve been dying to see what he thinks of it since it came in the post!” Sirius’s enthusiasm was suspicious to her because she thought he was trying to deflect her attention, but Arthur made a happy noise of anticipation, and Elodie turned toward the Weasleys with a smile.

“Forgive me if I didn’t want to spoil the surprise by finding out if you already knew about this series of books, but, here is your present, Arthur: the 1994 version of the  _ Guinness Book of World Records!” _

Elodie had heard of someone’s eyes going ‘as big as saucers’ before, and Arthur Weasley did a good approximation of that as he took the heavy book from her. It was packed with illustrations of all kinds of Muggle ‘world records,’ and she knew how much he loved all things Muggle. As a bonus, the cover of the book was strewn with random-looking Muggle things, like a John F. Kennedy for President pin, a baseball card, a gum wrapper, and a miniature replica of the Mona Lisa.

Arthur sank back into the couch with the book, turning a page every so often and exclaiming about the information he found. Elodie looked at Molly and said, “I think I should have given this to you first, but here is your gift. It’s from a wool dyer in America, and it’s so beautiful, I hoped you could make yourself something with it.” She handed over the fancy plastic box that held two skeins of hand-dyed yarn in rich reds and golds.

Molly sucked in a breath and touched the see-through lid of the box with a tentative finger before taking it from Elodie.

“Now I know why she likes to go last,” Sirius said in a terrible stage whisper to Remus.

“This is stunning, thank you!” Molly finally was able to say. She didn’t open the box, just admired it from the outside, and Elodie had to give her a rather stern look.

“I’ll take it back if you won’t make yourself something out of that,” she told Molly. “The time you take to indulge yourself in it is part of the gift.”

“I think I can help enforce that,” Arthur said, leaning over to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Oh, and Remus?”

Remus looked up from the quill he’d taken out of his present box. “Yes?”

“We got your owl about having a bit of a post-Christmas party for Harry, here. If you don’t mind having the children visit without us, we’ll give Albus permission for Ron to Floo over with Harry? That way we won’t have to explain anything to the older children?” Arthur said. He got a bit of a wistful look on his face and said, “Molly was a bit put out that they all wanted to stay back for the Yule Ball this year, but I have to say, it’s been forever since we had just Charlie and Bill for Christmas.”

“Now, Arthur, Charlie said he might have to leave earlier than expected, don’t get your hopes up,” Molly told Arthur, but she had a faraway smile on her face, too. Elodie hadn’t thought about this aspect of the Yule Ball scheduling, but she was happy to get a glimpse of it, behind the scenes of the books.

“I’m happy to have Harry and Ron here without the two of you, thank you for asking,” Remus said. “Add fifteen other students, half of them Slytherins, and I’d have to think about it.”

Elodie stifled a grin at how relaxed Remus must have been to allow himself to express a negative view of his students, but Sirius had no such compulsion.

“Hah! I  _ knew _ you were at least irritated by those little buggers,” he said to Remus. “You got to see them at their supposed ‘best’ in class, but I saw them in the halls. This crop is a nasty lot.”

“I had at least one conversation with Minerva lamenting that fact, yes.”

Elodie took the opportunity during this lull in conversation that involved her specifically to get up and gather a plate of cooled biscuits for everyone to pick from. When she came back into the room, though, Sirius was standing, and he looked agitated.

“--how in Merlin’s name he managed not only a professorship, but Head of House? The Slytherins can’t help but turn out nasty and prejudiced with Snape in charge!” Sirius was saying in a vicious, angry voice.

Elodie hadn’t intended to reinforce whatever (probably correct) assumptions that Molly had regarding a relationship with Sirius, but she could see a fit of temper brewing when she saw one. She handed the tray to Molly to choose from, then went back into the kitchen. Quickly, she took out the two remaining Gâteaufidél cookies, wrapping one in a cloth and setting it aside to take over to Horace’s house sometime in the next week. The other, she broke in half, so that it was not recognizable as Gâteaufidél, and she piled the two pieces on top of each other and headed back into the living room.

Arthur was holding the tray for Remus to collect biscuits from (biscuits, plural; Elodie never tired of seeing how much Remus loved sweets), and Sirius was pacing. She looked over at Molly and saw that she herself wasn’t the only one worried about a possible explosion of temper from Sirius. Steeling herself for an unpredictable reaction, Elodie walked over to Sirius and pretended she only just then broke the cookie in half.

“There’s one left,” she said, holding a piece out for him. “Share it with me?”

Elodie hoped that the symbolism of what she was holding and who she was standing in front of while holding it had some effect on him. He’d stopped moving, but he wasn’t looking at her, and Elodie risked confusion in the rest of the room by saying something only Sirius and Remus would understand.

“Every time you get mad about him, remember how far your Godson sent him flying, in the Shack?”

This earned her a look, though he didn’t lift his head. The way his hair hung in front of his eyes reminded her of the way he was described in the Shrieking Shack scene.

“Take the cookie, Sirius,” she said, holding it so he could see the bunny ears. He was breathing heavily, already deeply invested into the anger that sometimes came over him and took hold of his sanity, but here she was with a lifeline, all but saying out loud that she loved him. “Hold it in your hand,” she whispered.

Sirius reached up and took it, and she beamed at him like he’d just taken his first step.

“We’re going to fix things, right? You and me?” Elodie wanted to push back his hair away from his face but she felt he was still too fragile. His anger at Severus Snape was volatile, she knew that from the books, but this time he was full of rage, not sardonic amusement.

She took a second to look around the room and was confused to see that Molly’s lips were moving, but Elodie couldn’t hear her. Suddenly she understood what must have happened, and this was confirmed by a glance over at Remus, who saw her furrowed brows and mouthed ‘Muffliato’ at her. She responded with ‘Thank you’ and turned back to Sirius. He was standing straighter, he was chewing, and he was glaring at her like she’d done something wrong.

Elodie took a step back, because an angry Sirius was a bit scary. “What did I do?” she asked hesitantly.

“You tricked me into eating chocolate, and I feel better,” Sirius said, channeling every sullen teenager in existence.

“Oh shit, I honestly forgot about that aspect! I’m sorry I cheered you up so thoroughly?” Elodie said, resisting the urge to laugh. She was mostly serious about feeling bad about tricking him. She’d only been thinking about the symbolism of the cookie, not its chocolate content.

Sirius threw his head back and laughed, his mercurial soul having vetoed his anger in favor of manic joy, instead. 

“Thank you, I think,” he finally said. “Did they cast  _ Muffliato _ on us?” he asked then, watching the Weasleys stand up and hug Remus in turn.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to say, ‘Remus was afraid you’d lose your shit and scare them, so he put you on ‘mute.’’ Then, the reality of that thought hit her. “Oh my  _ God, _ magic has a real life MUTE button!”

Sirius just looked at her blankly.

“Oh, never mind,” she said, waving at Remus to  _ Finite _ them so they could bid their guests goodbye. “I am going to have to talk to Harry about that, I guess. Or Hermione, if Petunia never let Harry watch anything on the VCR.”

“Honestly, Elodie, you sound completely nuts sometimes, you know that?” Sirius said. It was just his luck that this was the first statement audible after Remus ended his spell on them.


	34. Gifts of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas 1994 dawns clear and bright and brings presents from each housemate to the other, none more poignant than Sirius's gift to Remus.
> 
> ***Even if you aren't sure you want to read the story anymore, please click and read the beginning note for this chapter. Thank you.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a documentary I love called Touching the Void. It's about a climbing accident, and as marketed, the docudrama about Joe Simpson and Simon Yates is about how on Earth we see both men giving interviews, given how completely bleak the situation on the mountain was. Knowing the ending (they both live, we know that from minute one) does nothing to diminish the excitement of how that happened.
> 
> I feel that way about this story. I can tell by the reaction of readers that there's a hit to what they liked about the story, and I feel like a bunch of people have stopped reading because they think that aspect of the story is gone. I can tell you that it's not. There are two relationship arcs to this story, and only one of them is Sirius/Elodie. I did not tag the story Remus/OC only to turn around and remove the possibility entirely--I didn't tag that just for the build up to no payoff! Maybe I'm swapping Sirius/Elodie readers for Remus/Elodie ones again, but I think both relationship arcs have value and are fun and engaging, and though in the end this is a Remus/Elodie story when it's all said and done, just like Touching the Void, I think the story of how they get there is what makes it worth reading.
> 
> Please, don't give up?

Elodie knew that Albus would be very busy during the days around Christmas, but she got an owl from him on Christmas Eve asking for her to please drop by that night, if possible. One of the things she knew Remus had gotten Sirius for Christmas was another bottle of the best Firewhiskey, mostly because he’d made an off-hand comment about trying to picture the taste of it when he’d been locked up in Azkaban. Given that the only time she was certain he’d had any was when he was trying to numb the knowledge of Harry being trapped into participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Elodie was glad that Remus gave him a happy occasion to enjoy.

“Get drunk, okay? Tell each other stories,” she told her housemates as she got ready to Floo to Hogwarts with Albus’s Christmas present. She had a little something she’d seen at Diagon that made her think of Minerva, but it wasn’t a big deal if she didn’t get a chance to hand it over. Both Remus and Sirius held up their glass to her as she waved goodbye, and she held the wrapped present to her chest when she stepped through. 

She trusted Horace, but a Christmas present wasn’t something she was willing to risk losing, so she didn’t hover it behind her like he had hovered his trunk of Potions supplies through the Floo, that one time.

There were little flourishes of Christmas here and there in Albus’s office. In a rush of amusement, Elodie wondered if any of Fred and George’s mistletoe had been placed in there. 

“Happy Christmas, Elodie!” Albus said, coming around from behind his desk to give her a vaguely lemon-scented hug. 

“Thank you! Merry Christmas to you,” she said. “I brought your present, but if you want me to give it to the Hogwarts house elves to bring it in the morning, I can oblige?”

Albus laughed. “No, I’m happy to open it now,” he assured her, his eyes lighting up when he saw its odd shape.

“Let me tell you, after many years of having to hand wrap, I--”

“Did some research,” Albus said along with the end of her sentence. He bore her good-natured glare very nicely afterwards, as well.

There was one moment when it looked like he would open it upside-down, and she realized she had forgotten to charm the potion vials inside not to dump, but after a few minutes, Albus was beaming with happiness and looking at his foot rest.  The design of the embroidery had originally been that of a cliffside next to water, and Elodie had taken it upon herself to find a picture of the school and charm a needle and thread to add a Hogwarts silhouette.

“This was a delightful gift even before I discovered it has contents,” Albus told her. He hummed in approval of the different potions she’d placed inside, and before she had a chance to, cast a minor sticking charm so that they wouldn’t break when he moved it to its permanent resting place.

“What I find so charming about your present, Elodie, is that you took the time to personalize it, knowing where I keep it would probably mean it never saw the light of day,” he told her, stopping beside his desk with the footrest in his hand. He traced his finger over the black towers of Hogwarts on the embroidery before leaning over and placing it under his desk.

“You’re welcome to get it all covered in mud; as long as you enjoy it, that’s the important part!” she told him, feeling full of affection for the man she had come to know. 

“Now  _ that  _ I can avoid,” he said, snapping his fingers and reaching for his wand. In a few seconds, a protective spell had been cast over the top of her gift, preserving it against any kind of stains and injuries. He beckoned her over to peek at it, and when she leaned over to look into the darkness with her wand tip lit, she saw the rubber band she’d slid onto her wrist as a reminder. She planned to ask Albus about the DADA curse, today, hopefully to plant in his mind a possible suspicion about Moody being different than he ought to be. Before she got a chance to bring it up, though, Albus put a bent finger on his lip. It wasn’t quite a ‘shush’ finger; it was more like the kind of thing a person would do if they wanted to bite their fingernail in excitement about something but had kicked the habit of doing so.

“What is it?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m anticipating your reaction to your present, but my excitement is a bit mis-placed. Your present is a bittersweet one, I think. Come with me?”

Elodie’s curiosity was piqued, so she followed Albus as he lifted his robes out of the way of his slippered feet and walked down from his elevated desk into an alcove in his office. Here she saw a wide, shallow basin resting on a sturdy-looking table, and she was certain that this was a Pensieve. It was very similar to her memories of it in the books, except that this real version looked far more valuable. There were runes carved into it, and here and there were inlaid precious-looking stones.

In a small way she was disappointed. Her hope had been to ask Albus if there was any chance she could borrow the Pensieve for a short time, for her present to Sirius, but this gorgeous magical object was clearly too precious to lend out like it was a magical lawnmower. Albus was excited about  _ her  _ present though, and she wasn’t cruel enough to seem unhappy before he had fully unveiled it. Elodie schooled her face back into mild anticipation before Albus could guess there was anything else going on, and she waited for his explanation.

“Now, please forgive me for bringing up a painful memory, but I was thinking about what to give you as a present. I have this truly remarkable device,” Albus said, walking over and holding his hands out over the Pensieve. “With that in mind, I recalled that I am in possession of a memory of myself speaking to your late mother.”

Elodie gasped, her hands clenching into excited fists as she brought one up to her mouth, pressing against the words that wanted to flow unchecked.  _ Can I look right now? How long do we have? How didn’t I think of this before?! _

“It’s not a painful conversation, mind you, but she was ill, at the time, and while I may have been there for it, I don’t necessarily want to force you to view it with an audience,” Albus said. Uncharacteristically, he seemed almost a bit off-kilter, as if he hadn’t been sure how she would receive his present, but went ahead to offer it to her anyway. It was a rare glimpse of uncertainty from someone so powerful, and she walked around the Pensieve and threw her arms around him without speaking a word. 

“Thank you,” she said, her cheek resting against his robes. She wanted to ask if his statement about privacy meant that he was going to leave the room for a bit, or let her take it home. She assumed the former, but hoped for the latter.

“Tell me what you’re calculating in there?” Albus said, pulling back with his hands gentle on her shoulders as he looked in her eyes, then turned his gaze toward her forehead.

“I had already wanted to ask you something to do with the Pensieve, but now that I see it in person, I can’t even imagine having the right to, honestly,” she said truthfully.

“If you don’t ask, you can’t know what the true answer to your question is,” Albus said. He produced another Phoenix-embroidered handkerchief for her.

“I’m going to have a collection of these one of these days, my friend,” she said, sniffing and laughing at the same time.

“Minerva quite prizes hers,” he told her with a beatific smile. “Ask me, my dear. If I need to say no to you, surely you can trust I will not crush your spirit beneath my slippers?”

Again, his ability to gently manipulate (or perhaps more accurately, maneuver) the people around him struck her as extraordinary. He had basically reminded her that her reticence could actually feel hurtful to the person on the other end of her unspoken question.

“All right,” she said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes for the third time since she’d been given her latest Dumbledore handkerchief. “I struggled to figure out what to give my non-werewolf housemate,” she said, catching herself before she spoke Sirius’s name aloud. She remembered the way the portrait of her minor nemesis, Phineus Nigellus Black, had been used by Hermione to check up on the Headmaster’s Office when it belonged to Severus Snape. The Headmasters’ portraits weren’t bound by any need to keep secrets. “I realized one of the best presents would be to let him actually see the First Task, in a Pensieve. Not only that, but he wouldn’t be limited to just one perspective, then, would he?”

“He would not indeed! That is a kind and clever gift, Elodie,” Albus said. He walked over to a thin cupboard made of the same wood as the table the Pensieve was sitting on. Inside a small door was a collection of vials, and he removed four. “Do you know how to remove a memory?” he asked her with a bright, pleased expression.

After a little under an hour, Elodie knew just how to target and duplicate a memory (without erasing it, which was also possible, but required a bit more precise magic than what Albus taught her to do in that short amount of time) to place it in a vial, so that she could swap memories in the Pensieve. He tied ribbons around the vials, so that Elodie could tell them apart. Then, he produced an interesting looking briefcase made of brass, into which he placed the Pensieve. The inside of the lid protruded into the basin in such a way that it formed a magical seal and preserved the liquid inside it. After she’d gotten a chance to take in all of this, Albus showed her a vial with a rich red colored ribbon on it, and told her it was his memory of the First Task. It was tucked into a little pocket inside the case that held it tightly, but showed the top part of the vial.

“I know this feels counter-intuitive to you, Ellie,” Albus said. “But I promise you that you can carry this case by its handle. Nothing will be damaged, and the liquid inside is magically prevented from leaking.”

He held out the gleaming brass case to her.

Elodie took a long, deep breath, and slotted her hand into the wide handle opening beside Dumbledore’s pale, veiny hands. She couldn’t remember which hand that would be damaged by the horcrux that would ultimately curse him. If there was a chance to prevent that, she would do almost anything.

“It weighs almost nothing!” she said. To her surprise, Albus’s expression when he responded to her was very serious.

“The way a Pensieve carries weight has nothing to do with physical exertion. It can be addictive, and I want you to be aware of that, especially given the person you’re wishing to share it with.”

Her hand still outstretched, Elodie stared at the brass briefcase with new trepidation. Sirius was almost  _ the _ original addictive personality in this universe, she thought. James Potter might have qualified for that title, once.

“I… may have some powers of persuasion when it comes to him, sir,” Elodie said, unconsciously addressing him with the deference of a student, after the past hour they’d spent together. She didn’t rush to correct herself. It seemed appropriate, today.

“I will come for it in just over a week’s time, whether you two are finished or not. I look forward to seeing the peace and joy on both of your faces,” Albus said. Then, gently, he placed one hand lightly on top of hers, and started guiding her hand down to her side, where she could more comfortably carry the Pensieve case.

Elodie didn’t make an effort to hide what she was carrying when she went through the Floo to Phoenix House. She seriously doubted either man would know what the container had inside it, and at least one of them would probably too drunk to care.

“Is that a tuba?” Sirius asked her after she came out of the fireplace. Elodie caught Remus’s eye, then, and she widened her eyes just slightly. He widened his almost imperceptibly back, and she couldn’t suppress her giggle.

“Not a tuba, Padfoot,” Remus said. “You were saying, about James?”

“He cared too much about his hair,” Sirius said. “So naturally I went in the other direction. THAT is why he got antlers.”

Elodie felt like she’d never experienced an event that made her feel simultaneously more informed and stupider, all at the same time. “Good night, you two,” she said, picking her way past where they were sitting on the floor propped up against the couch, legs splayed every which way.

Sirius called after her when she was almost at the bottom, but she didn’t hear him and she wasn’t about to go back up. When she sat the Pensieve case down next to the wall in her room, she was caught by a yawn that felt like it could have snapped her head in half. There was no way she was going to mess with something as valuable as a Pensieve when she was that tired.

As a habit, she didn’t cast silencing charms before sleeping, and it seemed that neither of her housemates had cast any before starting to drink. There was something really comforting about hearing just a bit of their voices, hardly more than the cadence of speech, from her room underneath them, so Elodie didn’t cast anything tonight, either. She fell asleep thinking about the fun she was going to have watching Sirius’s reaction when he realized he had Albus’s memory of the First Task to watch.

8888888888888888

Elodie woke on Christmas morning 1994 with almost as much excitement as she had the first go-around. As a twenty-one year old still living at home, with one semester left at college to go and an acceptance letter for the job she’d applied for in advance guaranteed on graduation, all of her hard work had been about to come to fruition. She’d crammed as many classes into her free time as she could to graduate a year early, back then. Now, as a thirty-six year old  _ witch, _ she was waking up in the house she shared with two of her favorite people in the world, and she was finally at a point in her magic and potion studies where she felt like she had a right to call herself an adult witch. Sure, she’d been having fun this whole time, but she’d also studied a great deal, and there was something really satisfying about coming to the conclusion that those studies had been fruitful.

Eight o’clock seemed reasonable enough as an adult to sleep in, so Elodie got up and dressed in her green Christmas dress, complete with embroidered and sewed-on embellishments as ‘ornaments’ for the human Christmas tree she was, today. She grabbed the wrapped present she had, the one for Remus. The brassy golden color of the Pensieve case seemed Christmasy enough on its own, so she didn’t wrap it.

Then, something occurred to her. She set the case out on her bed, making sure it was flat, and when she opened it, she quickly retrieved the vials tha Albus had given her. They all had different ribbons on them, probably to differentiate the various people whose memories would go inside. Elodie grabbed the deep black one and took out her wand before she took a look at the Pensieve. As she’d remembered, there was a hazy kind of mist that hung over the ‘water’ inside it, and she was absolutely certain there was a memory already active inside. As much as she wanted to snoop right now (and she knew she  _ was _ going to snoop, because Albus was kind of neglectful of some things in life, but he wasn’t  _ negligent),  _ she had no idea what this memory was, and she wasn’t prepared to find out at this moment in time.

As Albus had taught her, she cast a soft incantation and the wand movement she made helped gather up the mist into a wide ribbon of memory, which she gently tucked into the vial with the black ribbon. Elodie took this and put it in a second, almost hidden pocket in the case. Then, she looked at the ribbons that were left. Silver, Gold, Blue, and Green. 

She rolled her eyes. Sometimes the Hogwarts fixation on House separation really did bleed over into everything! Elodie picked up the green one and focused on her memory of the First Task, lifting her wand and casting the extraction spell. There was a strange, cold feeling in her forehead as the memory collected on her wand tip. Then she placed it inside the vial, tucking it in the half-visible pocket, beside Albus’s crimson ribboned memory of the same event. That was part of Sirius’s present, though she wouldn’t blame him if he’d choose Remus’s memories instead of hers. 

When she was done fiddling with the vials, Elodie shut the case carefully and gingerly lifted it by the handle, half expecting some sort of leakage despite the magical and mechanical protection from the case. She shook her head at herself and headed upstairs.

As soon as Elodie pushed the door to the kitchen open, she smelled cinnamon bread. Remus had remembered! She’d made the dough two days prior and frozen it, leaving a note on the freezer that explained how to bake it if either of the men woke up before her on Christmas morning. She knew it was Remus because she’d seen Sirius reading the note she’d left for them, frowning, and then taking one of Remus’s gift quills from the box at his chair and scratching out his own name.

Sirius had turned around to see her standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

“You don’t want me to ruin the cinnamon bread, Ellie,” he’d protested.

“You wouldn’t ruin it, you know. All you have to do is charm the oven to a particular temperature and put the frozen loaf in the baking tin.”

“What’s a baking tin?” he’d asked her, grinning. At that, she’d conceded the point.

Now, Elodie closed her eyes and breathed in happily. “Thank you, Remus!” she called out.

“You’re welcome!” she heard him say, probably from his chair. She walked into the living room, focused on her spot on the couch, setting down the two objects she was holding before she practically ran back into the kitchen for two thick slices of warm cinnamon bread.

“I am a  _ genius,” _ she said on her way back, walking slowly, savoring the sugary treat.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Remus said. “Is it too much to hope that my present is more of those amazing biscuits from fifteen days ago?”

Elodie stopped in her tracks. “Did you--” she stopped talking as she counted in her head. “You kept track of how long ago that was?!”

Remus looked a bit guilty. “Yes?”

“That’s not the present, sorry. I think you’d remember me baking that again, it does take a while!” Not to mention the fact that Elodie wasn’t sure  _ what _ she’d be focused on if she made them again. She hadn’t deliberately concentrated on both men last time, so what would happen with the recipe if she did that the second time? Then, she thought about the time he’d spent at his job recently. He’d been gone all day. “Wow, I completely missed that you spent the whole day at work just to give me a chance to bake them, am I right?”

“Good morning, Sirius!” Remus said. The impudent look on his face told her he knew he was dodging her, and he knew  _ she _ knew he was dodging her.

“Well, Merry Christmas twice, then. I’ll let that one go,” she said in a gracious voice.

“Happy Christmas, Gits!” Sirius announced cheerfully. “Wow, you’re a tree.”

“You gave him Firewhiskey  _ and _ an executive Sober Up Potion for Christmas,” Elodie said to Remus, not even bothering to make it a question.

“I did,” Remus nodded.

“He’s the best,” Sirius announced. “That’s why I’m giving him two presents.  _ And _ I’m telling him that you encouraged me to give him something personally encouraging, even though you were going to let me have all the credit.”

“Sirius!” Elodie protested when he started speaking, but she was gratified that, while he’d skirted the secrecy she’d sworn him to, he didn’t come close to giving it away. She walked away from where she was standing by Remus so that Sirius could take her place.

To her great surprise, Sirius went into the kitchen and pulled over a chair so he could sit near Remus. When she caught a glimpse of Remus’s face, he looked like he knew he was in for something with heavy emotional weight. He was wearing a tremulous smile, and there was so much affection on his face for Sirius that it made Elodie blush from across the room. She knew that reaction was because there were still parts of her that wished he would look at her like that, but it was also because Remus had a way of exhibiting certain things that other men sought to hide. Despite the way he kept from showing outward  _ romantic _ emotions (and she wasn’t going to wonder, today of all days, whether he  _ felt _ them to display them in the first place), he had a confidence in showing other positive emotions, like pride or camaraderie. 

Elodie felt a very great pang in her heart at the idea that Remus would have been a wonderful role model for Harry in that regard. The brotherly love that showed up in fanfiction written about the Marauders as young men couldn’t be  _ all _ fanon, Elodie felt. She could see some of it happening right in front of her.

“Right, so I actually had some forethought, so Ellie, there’s a copy of this parchment by your chair, and I have one in my pocket, so Remus, you can read this as slow or as fast as you want to,” Sirius said, holding up the letter that Elodie knew Harry had sent him by request. 

Remus reached for the letter, and Sirius lifted it out of his grasp for a second, and tsked at him. 

“I still have set up to do, be patient,” Sirius chided Remus. He held his expression of chastisement for a beat longer than felt necessary, and all three of them laughed. “So, your present,” Sirius said. “There was a lot going on the night we were in the Shack together, at Hogwarts. I don’t think you know everything about what happened that night, and you should, Remus.”

Remus shook his head just slightly, and Sirius reached out and clasped his shoulder.

“Don’t. Don’t feel guilty. I can see it on your face, and that’s what this--” and here, Sirius shook the rolled up parchment in his other hand “--is all about. You don’t know all the good you did, starting  _ months _ before all of that happened. You should know about it, so here. Read this.”

“I--” Remus started to say, but Sirius, being Sirius, cuffed him on the side of his head, hopefully not as hard as it looked to Elodie from across the room. “Okay.” Remus said, his hair tousled from the smack. He slid the ribbon off of the scroll and unfurled it a bit, at the top.

“It’s from Harry,” Sirius said.

Remus looked from the first few lines of the letter over to Sirius, then to Elodie, then he closed his eyes for a second. Then, he started reading.

Elodie reached over and grabbed her scroll, but she could see that Remus was anxious, and her movement had drawn his attention. She didn’t think she could start reading without making Remus self-conscious, so instead, she watched his face. Sirius did the same.

At first, Remus looked a bit worried. She didn’t blame him. Elodie didn’t know exactly where Harry started his narrative, but that had been a fraught night for Remus no matter where Harry started, really. After the scroll started to curl up at the top, Remus drew in a sharp breath and then held his fist up to his lips, his first finger resting, bent, against them. A few seconds after that, Remus set down the scroll and reached over to Sirius, placing a heavy hand at the join where his neck met his torso. He didn’t say anything, but the look that passed between them had a lot of meaning in it.

“Keep reading, Moony,” Sirius said to him in a near whisper. “I’m still here.”

Remus’s face twisted up for a second, but he left his hand where it was, picking up the scroll with his other hand. He finished reading and let out a long, ragged breath.

“This is where I tell you that you saved me by being  _ you, _ Remus. You taught him that spell. Thirteen year old boys don’t learn to cast a Patronus.” Sirius reached up for Remus’s hand at his collarbone, but she couldn’t see from her vantage point. “Because I’m me, my present is selfish. I need you to stop regretting everything about that night, okay?”

“Is  _ that _ all?” Remus rasped out.

“Final offer,” Sirius said. “Okay, Ellie, did you get me something?”

“Really?” Elodie said, incredulous. “You don’t want to, I don’t know, let that moment sit and breathe a little?”

“I like presents!” Sirius said, pretending to be whiny. At least, she hoped he was pretending.

“No, you got a present, I got a present, it’s her turn,” Remus said, brushing a thumb over a section of Harry’s letter and then rolling it up and putting it into an inside pocket of his vest.

“I’m fine just sitting and finishing my cinnamon bread, for the record,” Elodie said, holding up both hands in surrender. 

Remus stood up and walked over with something in his hand anyway. “When you’re done, then.” He handed her something that was undoubtedly a book, and she tried to look cross at him for giving it to her despite her protestations, but it was a  _ book _ from  _ Remus, _ so she had no hope of being genuinely cross.

She finished the bite, cast a spell to clean her hands, and started opening the present.

At first, Elodie was a bit confused, and very mildly disappointed. The book was The Wizard of OZ, which wasn’t her favorite, though she supposed she enjoyed it. The cover was enchanted, which was kind of cool, but she couldn’t help but look over at Remus, confused.

“You asked about any witch or wizard authors who also publish Muggle novels,” Remus said to her, a look of anticipation in his eyes.

“Oh!” she said, finally understanding.

“There’s more,” he said, coming over and sitting beside her on the very edge of the couch. “May I?” he asked, before he reached for the book.

“Of course!”

“So, on the inside cover of the book is something you may not have seen as a child, it’s charmed so that you can personalize the illustrations inside. Sirius, do me a favor?” Remus said. 

His hand was holding the book open, which meant his arm was pressing against hers where she was holding it steady, on her lap. After a glance at the cover, and seeing that Remus was holding his wand with his non dominant hand, Elodie immediately realized what was happening. There was a place to tap your wand, with an incantation to speak while pointing that wand at your family pet, so that the book could charm the illustrations inside the book to conform to the image of your pet. 

Elodie was pretty sure Remus was trying to get Padfoot’s image into the book. As Toto.

“Why?” Sirius said, looking at the two of them suspiciously. Elodie brushed her arm up against Remus’s in a gesture of solidarity and understanding. She shot a glance over at him and saw that his face was a picture of innocence.

“It’s for my book, Sirius,” Elodie cajoled him. “Please?”

“Two people I care most about in the world besides Harry, and they’re planning something,” Sirius muttered. “Fine. If it can use the image, I’m sure it can  _ erase _ the image.” He stood up from the chair he was still sitting in, and in seconds he’d transformed fully into Padfoot.

Remus tapped his wand, spoke the incantation (after swapping his wand to his dominant hand, which told Elodie he hadn’t actually expected Sirius to comply), and a yellow light shone around Padfoot for a few seconds before it shot into the book on her lap. She felt the magical surge and opened the book to the middle, hoping to see a miniature Padfoot following behind Dorothy Gale.

He was not miniature, though. He was life sized, about half the size of Dorothy, but it was a complete delight to see the animated drawing of Padfoot beside her. The charms were so expertly cast that Dorothy leaned over to give him a pat, and it was perfectly aligned.

“This book is  _ amazing!” _ Elodie said to Remus beside her. “Look, Sirius! Not anything shameful at all, I’d say!”

As Sirius came over, Remus lifted the book out of the way as fast as he could before Padfoot jumped up onto her with all four paws and started licking her face.

She probably should have seen that coming, Elodie realized.

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Remus’s gift to Sirius was a custom-made Glamour spell that completely changed what Sirius looked like along with claiming to change some aspects of his ‘magical signature’ (something Elodie had never heard of; she hoped that Remus hadn’t fallen for a magical version of snake oil). It was the kind of spell, Remus said, that famous witches and wizards used to help disguise themselves in public. Celestina Warbeck was a proponent of the spell, and she helped sell the licenses to cast it.

Elodie hadn’t heard of anything like this, so she was fascinated by the whole idea. She again lamented the fact that she couldn’t Google anything to figure out what it was. Spells like these were relatively new, from the past decade, so a lot of the books she’d been borrowing from the library had nothing about them, either. The concept was that, just like the spells she’d seen being hawked by the pushy salesperson in the home goods store, some spells were too complex to be used everyday. They were in some ways the opposite of things like  _ Lumos, _ which were useful at many points and easy to cast and remember. A spell to convert a Muggle dryer to be used with magic was the kind of spell that one might have to call in a specialist to perform--unless you could buy a one-time-use ‘proxy’ to help you cast it. Such proxies were a magical mechanism to enable a person to cast something they wouldn’t normally be able to, and the proxy framework was perishable. This kept whatever magical trademark that existed for the spell, enabling its creator to make money from their efforts, in a way that Levina Monkstanley wouldn’t have been able to gain from  _ Lumos. _

The Glamour Remus gave to Sirius was a license for ten spellcastings, and the ‘look’ that would be gained from casting it was, apparently, one of the most rare ones. Elodie supposed that springing for a rarer disguise made more sense, because if the Aurors were looking for someone, they would probably know to look for someone wearing one of those kinds of disguises. At the same time, she was surprised that Remus would be more willing to trust a magical disguise that was  _ known to be _ a magical disguise, more than a potion that was also guaranteed to conceal someone’s identity. 

Then again, ever since Remus’s extreme reaction to her Polyjuice gift idea, she’d been trying to think of possible reasons why it was a bad idea, and one of the things she’d realized was that there was quite a small number of people Sirius could have impersonated anyway. 

Of course Sirius wanted to try his gift out right away, and when cast, the Glamour turned him into a fifty-five year old aging Muggle, complete with patched leather jacket, holey jeans, grey facial hair, and a bald spot. He looked like a grandpa who was going through a late mid-life crisis, and it was so nondescript and perfect that Elodie walked over to Remus and gave him a heartfelt side hug.

“Thank you for this,” she said to him in an emotional whisper as they stood outside and watched Old Man Muggle Sirius hop onto his motorcycle.

“I gave him a map with all the nearby roads on it, too,” Remus said. His voice wavered a little, uncertain and proud, all at once. “I really hope this wasn’t a bad decision.”

Remus stayed outside in the chill wind, but given that she was wearing a dress, she headed inside. With Sirius out from underfoot, she decided to set up the Pensieve in his bedroom, so that he could view the memories she’d collected for him at his leisure. She carried the Pensieve case into Sirius’s bedroom and looked around, trying to decide how best to place it. There was a chair she didn’t recognize, and before she grabbed it to transfigure it into a table for the Pensieve, Elodie stopped herself. She didn’t actually know whether transfigured items lost integrity or could revert back if they were transfigured into successive objects, so rather than risk the priceless Pensieve, she went back down to the basement and grabbed the chair in the potions lab.

Elodie had carried the damned thing all the way from the basement into Sirius’s bedroom before she realized she could have miniaturized it and saved herself all of that grief. The table she transfigured it into was pretty snazzy, though. 

After she set down the case on Sirius’s bed and opened it, Elodie looked at the Pensieve and made a face. Logic told her that she should carry it bodily over to set it on the table. She could trust her two hands more than she should trust an unseen force, right? But magic was likely the safest means of transporting it. Magic didn’t need to be calibrated differently for weight, not at this level, anyway.

Elodie could recognize the derailing train of thought that would result if she went down that path.  _ Was _ there a level at which levitation needed a heftier spell? After all,  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ was a trivial, child’s spell. If a witch needed to move a cargo plane, for example, surely a spell learned in one’s first year at Hogwarts wouldn’t be used?

Her eyes lit on the pocket on the brass case that contained already full memory vials. She walked over and looked out of Sirius’s bedroom window, but it was faced away from the front of the house, and she saw neither one of her housemates. The gift of memories for Sirius was a surprise, and she didn’t want to reveal that surprise by way of Sirius coming home, only to head into his bedroom and find Elodie with her head in a Pensieve! She decided it would be best to wait to view her own Christmas present memory from Albus until after Sirius was able to see his.

Besides, she wasn’t sure her emotions were up for that kind of a birthday present. Elodie had lived so many years as an adult without her mom around anymore that she hadn’t even really contemplated having her mom back, when she’d first arrived. She hadn’t planned for Thanksgiving (which she just realized she’d totally missed), she hadn’t thought about Christmas, how she’d have her mom again.

And then, just like that, she didn’t.

Elodie held the vial close to her heart for a second, then lifted it close to her face, looking at the swirling mist inside. From the books, she knew that when she eventually stepped into the memory, it would be like literally stepping into her mother’s hospital room, whatever that might be like in a magical setting. All at once, Elodie wondered if the memory vials were special in some way, and if so, if she could ask Albus if she could have twenty, thirty more. She wanted to preserve her Muggle life, just a little bit, in those vials, considering that Marcos Francis was now dead. 

A light knock on the door had her turning her head to see Remus stepping inside.

“A Pensieve! Now  _ that _ is a gift,” he said.

“A loan, really. But I think you meant the memories, anyway,” she guessed.

“I did. Is this your present to him? From both you and Albus?” Remus asked her, coming over and skimming his hand a few inches above the rim.

“I asked Albus if I could borrow it. He gave me his memory of the First Task, for Sirius, so a bit of both, I guess?” she said. Somehow, sharing the present made it feel less thoughtful, which she knew was silly. She wasn’t going to somehow get her hands on a Pensieve without Albus Dumbledore’s help, after all.

“Elodie, were you worrying about how to move this to the stand, over there?”

She looked down and fiddled with the empty vials for a moment before answering. “Yes.”

“Will you let me do it for you?”

“Yes.”

The Pensieve didn’t wobble or sway at all when Remus used magic to move it. After it was settled on the stand, Elodie reached into the pocket with the empty vials and showed Remus his options.

“Pick one? Do you know how to put a memory inside?”

To her great surprise, Remus sagged a bit at the suggestion. It was only a few seconds, but it set off alarm bells for her. She didn’t want to ask him about it, but then realized that this instinct was from before, when she had habitually hesitated to press him on anything emotional lest she help him mortar the bricks in his wall against emotional attachments. Now, she felt more empowered, both to ask,  _ and _ to knock down those bricks as he constructed it.

“Did--” she stopped, trying to think up the phrasing  _ before _ asking him such a personal question. “They questioned you about the Secret Keeper, I assume. They used a Pensieve?”

Remus put a hand on the wall and looked at her, surprised.

“To remind you, I read a  _ lot _ about that stuff, in my first weeks in the UK.”

“They used a Pensieve, yes. I--” he pushed off the wall and walked over into the middle of the room, his back to it and her. “It’s easier, when you can extract the memories yourself. I’ll leave it at that.”

She walked over to him and hugged an arm around his waist. “Well in that case, I have good news. Except for the height difference, our view of the First Task is almost identical. So your memories are not required.” Remus had moved his arm when she’d come up to him, and now he hugged her to him briefly before moving away, toward the door.

“I hear an engine. I don’t mind doing the memory, but… later?” he asked her with a thin smile.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Can you stall Sirius, before he ‘takes off’ the Glamour?” she said after hearing the engine sounds coming closer.

“Yes?” Remus said, but his answer was also a question.

“I have a camera,” she told him, simply.


	35. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas continues with more gifts. Then, Remus has a heartfelt talk with Elodie that doesn't dissuade him from an intervention plan put into motion when a drunk Sirius got chatty on Christmas Eve.

 

Far from trying to hide, Sirius fully embraced his Aging Muggle persona when Elodie appeared outside with the camera. He posed with his bike and even flew past so she could take an action shot.

They ate lunch shortly afterwards, and then Elodie walked Sirius back into his room, excited to show him the present she’d managed to arrange. When she walked in, there was a new cardboard box over by the window seat, with a flat piece of parchment on it, but she didn’t pay it much mind. Maybe it was a separate present from Remus, or it was some other kind of housekeeping-y thing that wasn’t her business, Elodie decided.

Sirius had followed her without any innuendo, and when she turned to watch his expression when he walked in and saw the Pensieve, he wasn’t surprised.

Frustrated, she walked over and shoved his shoulder in mock anger. “You peeked!”

“I had no idea there was anything to peek  _ at!” _ he protested. 

Remus poked his head in and Elodie immediately honed in on him. “Did you tell him to look in here?” she asked, glaring.

To her surprise, he looked chagrined. “I went past my room to snag the vial for the memory, and he followed me,” Remus said. “I didn’t mean to spoil your surprise.”

He handed over the silver-ribboned vial from inside his vest pocket. It was warm from his body heat, and she held it close in the second after she took it from him, knowing that it had been a difficult choice.

“I thought the present was for me?” Sirius said. Elodie looked over to see him standing beside the Pensieve looking over at the vial she’d just taken from Remus with great curiosity.

“It is. I assume being from a Pureblood, ancient family, you know what a Pensieve is?” Elodie said.

“Funny way to say ‘rich and spoiled,’ but yes, I know,” he teased.

“And you know how to extract yourself from it, when you’re finished viewing the memory?” she asked. She didn’t want to trap him in there, though Albus had taught her how to extricate someone when you weren’t sharing the memory.

Thankfully, he didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t seem to be showing any of his ‘I’m lying recklessly, don’t challenge me or I’ll get bitchy with you’ mannerisms, either.

“Yes.”

“Want to  _ really _ watch the First Task?” Elodie dangled.

The hungry, excited look in his eyes made Elodie’s heart leap.

“Here’s Remus’s memory and Albus’s memory,” she said, holding up each vial in turn after rescuing Albus’s from the brass case. “Also mine, but Remus is taller, and I hid my face a few times, though I guess that won’t matter for the memory. Pensieves have you standing inside the memory, don’t they?” she said, mostly talking to herself.

“I thought Albus lent you this for your gift from him as well as to use for Sirius?” Remus said, sounding confused.

“Well, yes,” Elodie allowed. “But I haven’t actually used it yet, because it’s the memory of Albus talking to my mother. In the hospital.”

Remus crossed the room and gathered her up into a giant hug. Something broke in her, at this. He would never have acted this way a month ago, and she  _ needed _ this. Her dear, careful friend had been inhibited by her, the vicious self-doubting voice in her head said. She ignored it and wrapped her own arms around him, allowing herself to revel ever so slightly in the smell of parchment and chocolate that she loved so much. For now, it was the wonderful, comforting warmth of him, body and spirit, that she took to herself, in those moments.

“Thank you,” Elodie said, her voice trembling with the tears that were at the back of her throat. They were as much for her mother as they were for that sweet, unasked for,  _ needed _ moment they’d just shared.

“I think Sirius is going to shake himself apart, into pieces, over there,” Remus said against her hair. “Should we put him out of his misery?”

“Out of his misery  _ with dragons, _ you mean,” Elodie said, giving Remus one last squeeze and backing away from him. He didn’t even look as uncomfortable as she would have expected.

Sirius was indeed bouncing on his heels when Elodie walked over to the him beside the Pensieve. She held up the three vials to choose from and he went straight for the grey one, correctly guessing to whom it belonged.

“I’ll take Remus’s, thank you! And feel free to do something other than watch me, because I think it’s a long memory,” he said, opening the screwed on lid and pouring the mist-like memory into the Pensieve as if he did this every day. “At least, I hope it is!”

Then, with no hesitation, Sirius pushed his face into the mist.

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Elodie and Remus had left the master bedroom smiling. When they reached the living room, she turned to him to ask a question.

“What else did Sirius give you for Christmas?” Sirius had mentioned another present off-hand, and Elodie suspected it was the gift he was initially going to give Remus if there were no better prospects.

“He warned me not to expect too much from it, but he signed over the fifty year lease for a storage space he had put things into shortly after Harry was born. There are items that belonged to all five of us in there, but he said he isn’t up for sorting through it,” Remus told her. “Said that ultimately, my memories might be less dismal, in regards to what I might find there.”

“Wow. That’s basically giving you everything he owns, just about,” she said.

“It’s an overwhelming prospect, honestly. I am very grateful, but also petrified,” Remus admitted, cramming his hands into his pockets and looking up, up, beyond the ceiling, into some vast expanse invisible to her. He leaned back so far she thought sure he would topple, but Remus brought himself back down to Earth soon enough. “It’s probably the most  _ Sirius _ present he’s ever managed to give to someone: it’s touchingly sentimental, and a lot of work to sort out, all at once.”

Elodie burst out laughing, and Remus joined her with a wry chuckle. “He sure is something else,” she said.

“Not any easier to sort out as his girlfriend, then?” Remus said. His tone held no hint of an agenda, and as a result, she felt it hard to hold up any kind of pretense to him.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, shrugging. Then she added, “Well. I wouldn’t know  _ yet, _ I should say.”

Remus started to look uneasy, and she sighed.

“It’s not about you,” she said, hearing the irritation in her voice and dropping her mental resistance to any pang of guilt she felt in reverberation.

“I would be an arrogant man if I acted as though having prior feelings for me should preclude any issues you might have with Sirius Black, of all people,” Remus said, his expression so piercing and direct that she almost called him a sphynx. She didn’t have a chance to respond to his face, though, as Remus turned and walked into the kitchen right after he said this.

“Wait,” she called out. “You haven’t opened my present to you!” A few seconds passed, and Elodie groaned. She’d fucked up again, accidentally framing his unhappiness as though he were rejecting her, and doubling down on it by bringing up her present. “It’s very boring, if it helps!” she called out after covering her face with her hands, filled with frustration at herself.

“Stop beating yourself up,” Remus said. His voice was quite near, and she whipped her head up to look at him so fast it hurt. She knew he couldn’t have heard Sirius say the same thing to her, those weeks ago, but it was still an odd experience to hear that duplicate phrase, with her eyes shut and her hands covering her face, both times.

“Oh, ignore me, I’m a mess,” she said, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “Merry Christmas?” She held up his wrapped present, which had been waiting beside her chair, forgotten, for half the day.

Remus picked it up and felt along the contours of it like a child tasked with guessing his present before opening it. She’d missed watching him open Sirius’s second gift (if there had been anything to open), and the Weasleys’ present hadn’t been so unusual in shape, so this behavior was new and fascinating.

“Thank you, I’ve always wanted a…” he trailed off, holding the present up at eye level, flat, as if measuring its aerodynamics. “--cutting board with handles? Muggle hoverboard?”

_ “Someone _ saw  _ Back to the Future II _ in the theater, I think,” Elodie said in a sing-song chant. “Wrong, and wrong, for the record.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, walking over to his chair and shaking the present by his ear.

“Did you ever break one, doing this?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He shook his head. “Once, my mother wrapped up five brass keys loosely in a box beside the actual present, in the same package. She told me I’d probably broken a mug someone bought me by fiddling with it too much,” he said. “She probably hoped it would make me stop trying to suss them out.”

“She was so very wrong, wasn’t she?”

Remus grinned at her.

“Well open it up, Mr. Holmes, I have dinner to continue making at regular intervals, today,” she encouraged.

“Very well,” he said, but his smile didn’t diminish a bit. It didn’t dim at all once he was finished opening the present, either, which was also gratifying. The rich cherry color of the wood looked elegant with the prints she’d had made, as the  _ Orion’s Belt _ used newsprint that had a slight golden cast to it. There were two little insets, one for each of the spells; she’d had a professional framecrafter place a charmed glowing crystal that traced out the wand movement for each spell.  _ Reserō Ōstium _ glowed blue, and his  _ Reparo _ alternative was a crisp yellow.

“This isn’t boring at all, this is beautiful! Thank you so much,” Remus said. He traced his fingers across the glass that protected his two articles, and Elodie wondered if it had been over his own name in the byline. “I’m going to hang this up in my room so I can see it from my desk.”

He was smiling when he walked past the couch toward the hallway, and Elodie started sorting through her Moody notes, feeling better about Remus’s gift. 

Despite being a well known Auror as well as someone of a high social standing due to his so-called exploits, Alastor Moody was not the sort of person who showed up in news articles and history books. The most she found about him was about the rounding up of Death Eaters in 1981, and even there, there wasn’t much about what he was like to be around, just what he’d done.

The notes told Elodie she’d basically done all the prep work she could, and it was time to think about another of the conundrums that were coming up, eventually. There was no way in hell Elodie was going to let Dolores  _ Fucking _ Umbridge use her skin-carving quill on Harry’s arm. To prevent this, Elodie had an idea that she’d actually seen in a fanfiction, used in a completely different situation. The spell was cast on Person A, and the spell would inform a designated group of people if Person A was harmed. Elodie’s goal was to find out if there was such a spell, and if there wasn’t, she wanted to figure out how to  _ create _ one.

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It was hours later when Sirius finally came out of his room practically glowing with pride. 

“I am so proud of that young man I could explode!” he said, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. 

Elodie came out from the kitchen instead of just watching him from the doorway. She’d just finished eating the dinner she’d made the three of them as a bit of a Christmas celebration. Remus wasn’t quite done with his yet.

“Since I was there, I can vouch for it being good enough to miss Christmas dinner,” she teased. “I would look at my watch and complain about the time specifically, but I care about you too much to even try to act like one of your parents.”

Sirius stopped pacing and smiled slyly at her. “You’re just terrified I’ll have someone paint a portrait of you and stick you somewhere miserable, so you could turn into a monster version of yourself over twenty years,” Sirius said. He walked toward the kitchen, but swung his left hand out to slide it along her hip as he passed her.

Elodie hardly noticed, still stunned by his assessment of his mother. It was probably true that Walburga Black hadn’t always been the caricature of herself that was evidenced in the portrait that screeched and hurled insults. For him to recognize that was profoundly important to her.

Then she realized something--Sirius hadn’t been to #12 Grimmauld Place since his mother’s death. His knowledge of her portrait’s toxic behavior was tempered by the two times she’d mentioned it, once being in the conversation when she’d revealed to him everything about who she was and how she knew what she knew. Harry was not someone Walburga cared for much, but she  _ hated _ Hermione and the distilled version of herself in the portrait clearly had a great amount of loathing for her eldest son. 

She had a vision of herself standing in front of that portrait, looking at a woman she never would have imagined she would find herself so intimately connected to via Sirius himself. What would she say? By the time she got the chance, Elodie imagined she would be more ‘official’ in her relationship with Sirius.

Her stomach did a flip flop.

She hugged her arms around herself and did a bit of a twirl. Her heart felt like it had simply  _ expanded _ around the Sirius-growth that had planted itself there. She still loved Remus in quite a few ways, but her  _ hopes _ about how he felt about her had changed drastically. Now, she wanted to protect him from the erroneous conclusion he may have already come to, that despite her protestations, she hadn’t ever really  _ loved _ him. Was Remus the kind of person to take that to heart, in a painful way? She really hoped not. Not just because he was wrong, and she could prove it (if she was a masochist) but because Remus so very much deserved that love.

Would having to watch him fall for Nymphadora Tonks be painful, by the time it would start to happen?

Elodie opened her eyes and banished the thought on the spot. That was above her pay grade, as her father would have said. To her surprise, Sirius was still in the doorway to the kitchen, or at least, he had come back to it while she’d had her eyes shut. The look in his eyes was warm, and he almost looked bemused, as if he could hear how hard she had been thinking about him and Remus, getting the barest hints of how strong her emotions were when it came to the two of them.

She shrugged and smiled, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as if to say, ‘please excuse me, I’m just oddly whimsical, sometimes?’

Sirius lifted his hand to his lips and tapped there twice with his first two fingers, then turned and walked back into the kitchen. There, she heard his voice as he remarked on the food she’d prepared.

_ “Fuck, _ yes. Pudding!”

With Sirius occupied, Elodie decided she would go to his room and dither about watching the memory Albus had given her. She didn’t think she would actually watch it today; she probably would pack up the Pensieve and move it back down to her room before she did that, but she was feeling impulsive tonight, so in service to that, she went into Sirius’s room.

Sirius had left the memory he’d poured out inside the Pensieve, and Elodie decided she shouldn’t mess with it. One thing she hadn’t thought about until today was the chance she had to show Sirius a memory that could  _ prove _ that this universe was a book universe. The trick was that she needed a memory specific enough that she could target it, not just a nebulous knowledge that was floating around as a non specific fact.

Elodie sat down on the end of Sirius’s bed and closed her eyes, trying to remember any memories of seeing one of the books, or perhaps a strong recollection of watching one of the movies. How strange would it be for Sirius to watch a memory of the Shrieking Shack scene in the film version of  _ Prisoner of Azkaban! _ It was amusing to Elodie to think that, while she knew she’d handled her copies of the books many, many times, she couldn’t pinpoint any particular ‘view’ of them that stuck out. She thought over times she’d have seen the covers of the books, and then she remembered that when she’d first bought copies of the books, the  _ Deathly Hallows _ book wasn’t released yet. 

She’d started reading the books at the end of 2006, when someone gave her the first book. Elodie loved it so much that she’d gone out and bought the other five books with gift cards she’d gotten as Christmas presents. The following summer, she’d avoided buying the next book initially, skittish because of the reports from friends who  _ had _ read the book and didn’t have good things to say about Lupin’s portrayal in it. It wasn’t until early 2008 that she forced herself to buy it, but over the next year and a few months she’d tried to read the last few chapters, always giving up in frustration when she didn’t want to read past finding Remus and Tonks dead on the floor in the Great Hall.

Even getting herself to buy the book in the first place had been momentous, and she had a clear memory of herself standing in a bookstore in July of 2007, holding the book in her hand, surrounded by all of the Potter memorabilia from both the books and the movies. She’d traced the image of Harry standing in some sort of ancient amphitheater, his hand uplifted as though raising the words of the title for her consideration. Even though she hadn’t bought the book that day, she was sure she could pinpoint that memory well enough to extract it.

Elodie opened her eyes and stood up right as Remus walked into the room. He looked guilty, and that was so incongruous that she rushed over to him, thinking there was something wrong.

“What happened?” she demanded, her eyes scanning over his face and the items in his hands for signs of further distress. He was carrying a large water bottle, and he set it down on the windowsill, seeming to be surprised by the fact that Sirius didn’t have an end table.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he trailed off, looking guilty again. “I’ve made a decision. I think I may need to intervene,” he said. He didn’t sound very confident, and she wondered if he was either joking with her, or stalling, to keep her in the room for something Sirius might have had planned.

“Meddle? That’s not like you,” Elodie teased. She walked over to where she’d set the brass Pensieve case and picked it up, opening it and laying it on the bed. She wanted to see how many empty vials were left. Albus’s vial with the memory of the First Task wasn’t with the others, and neither was Remus’s, so she assumed Sirius had set them down somewhere on the bed. Her green ribboned vial was there, and so were a few empty ones. She didn’t grab one of them as she’d originally planned to, because Remus’s odd behavior was making her suspicious.

Combined with his guilty attitude, Remus’s statements made her feel ornery. It wasn’t Remus’s place to ‘intervene,’ as he’d put it, if he was referring to her relationship (or lack of an official one) with Sirius. She shot him a look as she walked back around Sirius’s bed to hop up onto it to sit. Elodie had been planning to set on the edge, but Remus’s frown deepened when she sat, so, goaded, she scooted so that she was sitting in the middle of the bed, her bright green Christmas Tree dress spread out beside her.

“So am I the one who needs the intervention, or is it Sirius? Or,  _ ooh,” _ she said with a look of feigned excitement. “Is it both of us?”

“Elodie,” Remus said, coming over to the bed and sitting on the edge where she’d initially intended to sit. “I’m not Molly. I’m not going to moralize at you. My concern comes from something Sirius said last night.”

“While he was drinking, right? Just to make it clear,” Elodie said, hearing the angry edge in her own voice and hoping he heard it too.

“Yes, while he was drinking. He said you two are practically performing some sort of relationship dance for my benefit.”

“No, you stop right there,” Elodie said, turning on her side to draw herself up onto her knees, where she felt she was at least at height parity with Remus, while she spoke with him. She pointed at the open doorway, through which Sirius was probably sitting at the table eating dinner. “He was drunk, so his descriptions were fucked all to hell, first of all. Second of all, it wasn’t  _ just _ for your benefit. It’s for my benefit too. Because he decided to go and screw up my chances with the person I wanted to be with by stepping in and showing that person  _ he _ was staking a claim first. Our so-called ‘relationship dance?’” Elodie changed her angry tone to a mocking one, the fury in the pit of her stomach boiling over into cruelty in tone and language. “--is about me being gracious enough to try to forgive him for that, given that I realized I care a lot about him in many different ways!”

“It wasn’t just--”

“I’m not finished, Remus,” Elodie said in a clipped voice. He looked like he wanted to continue to argue, but he stopped. “I am  _ not _ saying I would have convinced you. But can you say that you didn’t immediately think ‘hands off’ when you saw him kiss me?”

“I was relieved,” Remus said, almost under his breath. It wasn’t too quiet for her to hear it, though.

_ “God, _ that hurts. I want to think you didn’t mean it to, but, wow,” Elodie said, her hands clenched into fists at her sides and her head tipped back, eyes closed. 

“I don’t-- I’m not--” Remus said, sounding panicked. She felt his weight shift on the bed, and assumed he stood up. “Will you--” he started to say, then stopped. His voice was less frantic, now. “Keep your eyes closed?” he said, plaintively. 

She nodded, though she felt the pressure of tears against the closed lids. 

When Remus spoke again, it was quietly, fervently. “I am not in-- I don’t  _ want _ to be in love. With  _ anyone.  _ I like you a very great deal. You’re in a position, as a friend, as a  _ woman, _ that I’ve never…” He trailed off, and Elodie opened her eyes a fraction, just to let the tears fall, but no wider, then shut them again. “I see how this could--” Remus said, and she knew him so well, she understood what he was trying to say. For once she couldn’t smooth this over, couldn’t explain that she  _ got _ it, because if she spoke as if she understood his meaning in that last statement _ , _ he would not be able to stay so frank and honest with her. He would retreat. She knew this instinctively. Elodie said something else to encourage him, instead.

“Please remember how well I know you,” she said as softly as she could, given the fact that she was crying.

“You know me, and I am honored by that, Ellie, I am,” Remus said softly. “I feel like you understood that I needed you to back off, and please know, I can’t comprehend more than a fraction of what that was like, but I do recognize that it was hard,” Remus told her in a compelling, emotional voice. “You’ve been so happy these past weeks, so relaxed, and I was so happy to see that in you, and then when Sirius told me about your agreement I was just--”

With a surge of adrenaline, Elodie opened her eyes. She  _ needed _ to see the look on his face.

“Crushed,” Remus said. He looked crushed. His eyebrows were furrowed, his face was blotchy, pale with red spreading up from his neck, high on his cheekbones, bright red at his ears. He looked like he wanted to run away from her and never return. Instead, because he was  _ Remus, _ he walked up to the side of the bed and reached for her hand, which she was happy to offer. She felt his strong grip as a testament to their friendship.

“It wasn’t fake. I  _ am _ happy.” It was important for her to say.

“I know. I can see that,” Remus said.  _ “However _ you felt those weeks ago, can you cling to how you’ve felt since then?” he asked her, and somehow it wasn’t as ridiculous as it should have been, for him to be holding her hand and asking her to be happy with Sirius. Not as ridiculous as it had turned out to be when she had held Sirius’s hand as she was on her way to convince Remus to let her love him.

“What are you asking me to do, Remus?” Elodie said. She wanted to elaborate, wanted to tell him that if she disappointed him by finding him lovable that was  _ his _ problem, not hers, but she still loved him enough to know how unhelpful that would be to say out loud.

“Stop offering to love Sirius through a screen door,” Remus said. He squeezed her hand and let go, stepping back to gesture as he spoke. “Did you have one of those, as a kid? We lived in a Muggle house, growing up. I didn’t even know you could use magic for mundane things like keeping bugs out of your house until I spent long stretches of time at James’s house.” Remus had a faraway look in his eyes when he said James’s name, but that faded at his next sentence. “We had a dog when I was very little, before I was bitten. We had to give him away, after.” He shook off the sad look on his face, and Elodie could see him trying to refocus on his story. “Did you have a pet, growing up?”

“Fish,” Elodie said, shaking her head.

Remus laughed a little, and she shrugged in amused apology, assuming her fish wouldn’t be the kind of pet he was trying to illustrate his point with. “Well, in our household, Amal, our dog, he loved to try to reach me when we came home and he was inside. He’d throw himself at the screen door, pushing out the mesh of it as far as he could with his little doggie strength. I have this crystal clear memory of him licking me through it.” Remus put a hand on his cheek as if he could still feel the sense memory. “He only did it once, I think it hurt him. But I was too little to reach the door handle, you see.” Remus held up his hands straight up, palms facing her, like he was bracing himself against a wall. “He was  _ right there, _ but he couldn’t quite get to me, there was this tiny bit of not quite malleable  _ something _ holding him back.”

Elodie had been caught up in the memory, but now she sat back on her heels and ran her hand through her hair, her fingernails sliding through smoothly until the very last inch, where her hand caught on a tangle. She sighed, catching the symbolism there. She wanted to get up and walk away, but she was in the middle of Sirius’s big bed, and the act of extricating herself would leave her vulnerable. Instead, she spoke.

“You think you’re the something.”

Remus shook his head sideways just slightly, as if he wished he could refute the suggestion, but he said, “Yes.”

She wanted to argue with him. She wanted to lay out all the reasons and excuses and rationalizations that left his conclusion just that little tiny bit less credible than hers. She really, really wanted to.

Elodie was nothing if not a truth-teller.

“I don’t want to listen to you,” she said. She’d stopped crying long minutes ago, and honestly if she were to start crying again now it would be because of the picture of a four year old Remus Lupin losing his beloved dog because he was now a werewolf. 

“You accused me of not wanting to eat and then you started having an argument in my room that I could hear from the  _ kitchen!” _ Sirius said, walking into the room with his arms held wide in the standard ‘are you kidding me?!’ stance.

“That was all me,” Remus said before Elodie could open her mouth to apologize. He walked over toward the Pensieve case to pick something up. Remus turned, and on the way back toward the door, he laid a friendly hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Don’t be too angry, all right?”

Sirius immediately looked over at where Elodie was kneeling on the bed. She realized her hair was all in disarray, and she looked like she’d been crying. She shook her head against anything Sirius might have assumed, but was relieved to see him also shaking his head, as though he’d jumped to the kind of conclusion that could be refuted just by logic alone, and had rejected it as impossible. Elodie then looked over at where Remus stood with his hand on the doorknob. That seemed odd, and she started to feel a different kind of suspicion regarding what Remus had said to Sirius about not being angry.

“You two have some things to work out, and tonight is a good night to do it,” Remus said. He sounded resigned and decisive.

“What are you planning, Moony?” Sirius asked, and that reminded Elodie of something.

“Wait,” she said, finally making the clumsy movements that led to her getting out of the middle of Sirius’s enormous bed. She marched up to Remus and put her hands on her hips. “Moony. Is that what this is really about?” she accused.

“In part,” Remus said, holding his hands behind his back as he looked down at her disapprovingly. “It is, as you guessed, the full moon tonight. I don’t feel like trying to defend myself from whatever discussion you want to have with my alter-ego. Not on Christmas.”

Behind her, Elodie heard Sirius moving around and muttering something about his wand. Remus’s words were inflammatory, though, and she felt like they were specifically designed to be. She wanted to accuse him of not trusting her, but given what Moony had said the last time they’d spoken, she probably would be treading on very uneven ground, there.

“You can’t keep me from talking to Moony forever, Remus,” she said, wanting to get at least somewhat under his skin after what he’d just said to her in the last twenty minutes.

Remus didn’t look deterred, though. He reached out one hand to brace himself on the doorway he was standing in and leaned over to speak. “You may have thirty-six years of memories, Elodie, but all thirty-four years of  _ my _ memories involve magic.”

Then, holding up  _ her wand _ in his hand for her to see it, Remus pulled the door shut, saying, “See you in twenty-four hours!”

Elodie was stunned. She reached out and tried to open the door, but not only was it locked, but there was an odd sort of feeling to the doorknob, as if there was a film of magic covering it that felt unpleasant to be near.

“Remus, you ASS! Unward the door!” Sirius yelled, walking over and slamming his hand flat against the wood of the door. The force seemed to reverberate back into him, and he was knocked back.

“He’s got my wand, too. I think I left it at the table,” Sirius said in a disgusted voice.

Elodie remembered setting hers down near the Pensieve case, and even though she had seen Remus holding it, she still walked over and looked for it where she’d left it. The idea that Remus Lupin of all people would lock the two of them in a room together was laughable to her. She felt something like mirth bubble up in her chest, but it got stuck like it had transfigured itself into a rougher emotion on the journey.

Sirius was still shouting, but Elodie took stock of the room, certain that someone as deliberate and careful as Remus would have planned this in advance. Her gaze traveled along the walls until she came to the cardboard box sitting under one of Sirius’s windows. It had a piece of paper on it that she was now completely certain was a note.

“Sirius?” she said, pointing to the box. He walked over to it and picked up the note, his anger evident in the way it was slightly crumpled in his hand by the time he lifted it up to read it.

“‘I left food in the box. The doors and windows are warded so that if you’re in danger, they’ll let you out. Please know this is for the benefit of the two of you most of all,’” Sirius read out loud from part of the letter. “He always was such a sanctimonious  _ prick _ when he thought he was right,” Sirius snarled. “What  _ is _ he on about?”

“I might have some of a clue? He said he was crushed to find out about our kiss arrangement from you while you were drinking last night?” Elodie said, keeping her voice as light as she could under the circumstances. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, I know we were keeping that just between us,” he apologized, his face scrunched up like he’d stubbed his toe and it fell off. 

“I don’t want you to have to keep things from Remus, but this one seems to have set off a big old ‘meddle-fest’ on his part,” Elodie said, sighing.

“You know, I never thought about that before,” he said, throwing his head back to get his hair out of his eyes before he leaned over to pick up the box.

“What?”

“Before Azkaban, all my exploits were around people who were completely in on them. Getting drunk and telling secrets wasn’t possible--everyone I drank with already knew,” Sirius said, setting the box down on the bed. 

Inside were magically charmed meals--cinnamon bread, sandwiches, etc. Elodie remembered seeing Remus coming into the room with a large water bottle, earlier. He’d been setting this up all day. 

“See, to me, this feels totally out of character for Remus. He’s Mr. Avoidance, don’t you think? But he locked us in for twenty-four hours?!” Elodie said, grabbing the water bottle Remus had left on the windowsill and glaring at it. She was thirsty, but she wasn’t sure she trusted him right now.

“No, this is him all over,” Sirius said, moving the box off of his bed back to near the window. He gestured to the Pensieve box, and Elodie came over to fold it up. As soon as she was done, Sirius backed up and then took a flying leap to land on his bed, fully flat on his chest and stomach.

“Really?” Elodie asked, laughing.

“You should totally try it,” Sirius said, rolling over. The smile on his face faded, and he looked back at the locked and warded door. “I’m telling you, Remus was every bit of the prankster that me and James were, at school. He just did it subtly. We were ‘dungbomb in the ceiling’ types. He was a ‘goosegrass in the hallway’ type.”

“What does that mean?” Elodie asked, thinking of her Fidelity potion, which used Thrice Dried Goosegrass. It was possible that the ‘thrice dried’ part might be a hint, here, but she was mostly lost.

“Oh, goosegrass is very, very sticky,” Sirius said, patting the bed for her to come sit. She shook her head, not wanting to be manipulated by Remus any more than she already had been. “If you have enough of it built up, it’s like a very primitive glue. Remus would put it on the floor of the dungeons, a couple of coats a day, and at the end of the day you’d hear about one or two Slytherin students--even a seventh year, once--stuck to the floor. You’re not supposed to use magic in the hallways, either.”

“Oh, good Lord, that’s a clever prank!” Elodie said. “I imagine he’s ashamed of that, nowadays, though. He’s said he doesn’t like to judge people based on what house they were in.”

“I bet you  _ that’s _ about Peter,” Sirius said in a tone that belied the very weighty meaning behind his words.

_ Now _ Elodie went to sit down. She didn’t want to discount Sirius’s opinion on Remus, but the implication of Remus’s seeming ‘growth’ in maturity from Hogwarts to the present when it came to house politics was really, really dark.

“So this is in line with the Remus you know, and knew then?” Elodie asked, trying to block out the negative thoughts about Peter and how his betrayal had hurt her friend’s outlook.

“Not only is it in line, he’s done it before,” Sirius said, lying on his back, the picture of relaxation. She knew it was deceptive, because Sirius was upset at Remus. “He cast a very sneaky locking hex on the door to the Head Boy and Head Girl’s suite, a month into school our seventh year.”

“He locked in  _ Lily and James?” _ Elodie asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes, he thought they needed to stop dancing around each other and-- Oh.”

“Yes. ‘ _ Oh,’” _ Elodie said, shaking her head at him. She sighed internally. Not wanting to let Remus manipulative them into getting his way might be difficult, this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name 'Amal' means blameless, pure, without guilt.


	36. Cost-Benefit Analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With both of them trapped in Sirius's room, Elodie makes the most of it by showing Sirius her memory of a bookstore with copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on sale. This leads to a tense moment of confession for Elodie about events yet to happen.

 

Elodie liked to think through deep conversations like the one she’d just had with Remus, but here she was, trapped in a room with her not-quite boyfriend. It was honestly outrageous. It was totally unrealistic. It was… 

_ Oh, _ Elodie thought to herself.  _ It’s cinematic. It’s a story trope. And this is a storybook universe. Literally. _

“You’re making very interesting faces. I’m sitting here thinking about what must be going through your head. I figure Remus has been hexed into very small pieces at least twice by now,” Sirius said from his place on the bed beside her.

“Miniscule,” Elodie confirmed. “I feel like I ought to conjure up a bed for myself for the other side of the room, and divide the room itself into two, and transfigure something into a wall to separate them, just to thwart whatever his ‘I’m so clever’ plan was.”

“Good thing for me, then, that we don’t have wands.”

Elodie looked over at Sirius and frowned. “You don’t  _ want _ to be manipulated, do you?”

“So said Lily to James, once upon a time,” he responded. He lifted the arm closest to her and rested it over his eyes. “I don’t suppose I could convince you that the best revenge here is to go overboard?  _ Constant _ physical affection, over the line, all over the house, until he surrenders and admits he shouldn’t have done this?”

Elodie laughed, and Sirius reached up and tugged on her dress while she was laughing, so she ended up falling onto the bed on her back beside him. They were offset by a few feet, so Sirius turned sideways a bit and propped his head up on his elbow to look down at her.

“I didn’t read you the whole thing,” he said, pulling the crumpled letter from Remus out of one of his trouser pockets. “There’s a bit here about the door opening early.”

Sirius handed her the letter and pointed with a finger to a section of the short text.

 

> I’ve charmed the door to open early if a particular event occurs, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. Feel free to try to work it out amongst yourselves.
> 
> I hope you’ll understand why I found this necessary,
> 
> Remus
> 
>  

Elodie looked up at Sirius. “You sure you didn’t just add that bit at the end, for Reasons?” she asked, adding emphasis to the last word for his benefit.

“Oh, if I’d added something, I’d have been more explicit, never fear,” Sirius said to her with a big grin.

“You are unbelievable sometimes!” she said, crumpling the letter up into a ball and throwing it with all her might at the wall. It fell far short. “Ugh!”

“You’re not angry with me, right? I promise I was not in on this. Revenge will be had, and if it’s not by excessive PDA then it will be by other means.”

“I wouldn’t have expected a wizard to know what PDA stands for,” Elodie said, scooting further up the bed and rolling onto her side, so that she was right beside Sirius. “Given how much wizarding fashion stands out, I wouldn’t think ‘public displays of affection’ would be much of a concern.”

“You forget how much my mother hated Muggle girls,” Sirius said. He was still smiling, but it was sort of a hollow smile. She wondered how hurt he’d gotten, spending time with Muggle women, probably not getting to know them very well, just to horrify his mother. Elodie wondered if any of the women knew that’s what he was doing. She suspected not. She felt a pang of guilt; she was picturing him as some kind of playboy, but was that really the truth?

“You know, the books don’t really paint you as a womanizer, but they do say you were extremely handsome as a young man,” she told him. “I guess the womanizer thing was implied, because let me tell you, you have a  _ reputation _ in the fanfiction.”

“Fanfiction?” Sirius asked, clearly very curious to know what sort of medium had such an opinion of him.

“It’s stories written about characters that were created by someone else. A lot of times it’s to fill out gaps in a story, or to pair up two characters that might never have ended up in a relationship in the original book or movie,” Elodie explained.

“And I am a handsome, devilish womanizer in these fanfictions?” Sirius arched his back and reached back for the water bottle she’d put on the bed, up by the headboard. When he couldn’t reach it while lying down, he rolled off of the bed into a stand, instead.

“Some of them! I’ll spare you the descriptions, some of the women you’re paired with still need to grow up a bit more, first,” Elodie said, widening her eyes at him as if to say ‘you do not want to ask.’

Sirius widened his own eyes in return, backed away a step, and then turned away from her. He walked over to the Pensieve and picked up the vial that belonged to the memory inside it. When he reached for his wand, though, it wasn’t there. Now that Sirius was calmer than he’d been before, he got a look in his eye that told her he had an idea. Methodically, Sirius started to pat down his trousers, inch by inch, until he let out a sharp ‘HA!’ in surprise and delight.

From a hidden side pocket of his trousers, Sirius pulled out his wand.

“Yes!” Elodie cheered. Her delight and his were short-lived though. No amount of spellcasting opened the door, and the two of them spent a good half hour coming up with things they could cast to escape from his bedroom, all to no avail. The windows were completely impervious to spells and conjured sharp items. So was the bedroom door. Neither of them could Apparate, nor could they create a fake Floo (though Elodie wasn’t going to let Sirius try to step into one even if he did manage to conjure one up). The floor, ceiling, and walls were impenetrable. They were trapped.

“Well at least we had something to do for a while, there,” Sirius said.

“Oh, if you have your wand, you can clear out the Pensieve, right?” she said, thinking that she might be able to show him the memory she’d thought of, of seeing the  _ Deathly Hallows _ book. Or, she would, if he let her use his wand. “There’s a memory I want to show you, of the last book in the series.”

Sirius looked over at her with a startled expression.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think there are any spoilers? It’s actually the cover with the least information on it, if I’m remembering it right,” Elodie assured him. “You’d have to lend me your wand, though,” she said hesitantly, watching him use his wand to sift the memory currently inside the Pensieve up into the vial it had come from.

He was holding out his wand for her almost before she’d finished speaking.

Elodie hopped out of bed and came over to him, pushing his wand hand up against his chest without touching the wand itself. “You’re supposed to feel like it’s too personal to give your wand to another person!” she protested.

Sirius pulled her close to him with his other hand, tossing the memory vial on the bed like it wasn’t worth a thing in comparison. He dipped his head to kiss her briefly before he slid his hand down her arm, rubbing his thumb into the meat of her palm before he placed his wand in her hand. Then he curled her fingers around it. The look on his face was quintessentially Sirius, obstinate and pleased with the result of his own recklessness.

“You are the most beautiful and ridiculous part of this new life of mine, do you know that?” she whispered.

Sirius threw back his head and laughed with such gusto she was startled. Then, he explained. “I could say the same to you, love.” 

Elodie couldn’t help but giggle. “The ridiculous part in particular.”

“Speaking of which, go on,” Sirius said, kissing her collarbone and turning her to face the Pensieve as he kept his lips there. “Turn my world upside down again. You owe me one.”

Elodie gave him a dirty look over her shoulder, but she went over to the Pensieve anyway. She lifted Sirius’s wand, and the way it felt in her hand didn’t feel  _ right, _ but it definitely didn’t feel completely wrong. It almost tickled, and she remembered the way Remus had rubbed his hands together after she’d been splinched and he’d handed her wand over. 

Sirius was waiting, so she focused on the image of the orange cover of the last Harry Potter book, how she’d felt when she had held it in her hand, knowing that it described a course of life for Remus that she knew she would hate.

She pulled the memory out and placed it directly into the Pensieve.

Now that she’d done it, Elodie was terrified. She didn’t remember what she’d been wearing that day. How would the book store look different, in futuristic ways, from the mid-90s where they were, now? As soon as she felt her heartbeat race about this, though, she reminded herself that Sirius was as far from a Muggleborn as it was possible to be, despite spending time with Muggle women before Azkaban. Anything that was out of place or futuristic would probably just get handwaved by him as some random Muggle contraption. Elodie wished she could justify peeking into the memory for a few seconds to make sure it was something she was okay with Sirius seeing, but that felt rude, somehow.

“Shall we?”

Sirius came over to stand beside her at the Pensieve basin, and she looked at him like he was crazy. There wasn’t room for both of their heads in the Pensieve, and even trying felt like such an absurd endeavor that she was very surprised that he’d even imply it. She saw, though, that Sirius was neither deterred nor offended by her reaction. He simply smiled at her in that smug way he had, and reached out for her hand, placing it against the curve of the basin, along with his.

The Pensieve started to spin ever so slightly; the only real sign of it was the way the liquid inside started curving around as if someone was stirring it very slowly with a giant, invisible spoon. After about ten seconds, it stopped, and the Pensieve no longer looked too small to accommodate two people.

“Oh my gosh, I’m an idiot, I completely forgot they could do that!” Elodie said, smacking her forehead.

“It’s in the books, then?” Sirius asked.

“Yes. Harry and Albus spend time searching through Albus’s memories of Lord Git looking for clues in his behavior. Then, later, Harry is given memories by Snape to explain his actions since Harry’s parents died,” Elodie said. 

She didn’t add that this was given to Harry as Severus Snape lay dying, because she wasn’t sure she was up for explaining everything about the events of the three books that were yet to come. Sirius’s expression had lost its luster, and he looked down at the floor, his hair sliding forward and hiding his expression from her.

“What is it?” Elodie asked. She reached up and brushed her hand gently through his hair, just once, and pulled away again.

“I was an ass,” Sirius said. He lifted his head and shook his hair back. The look he had on his face was not remorseful. “I probably still am, when it comes to him.”

“And you’re sorry that I probably saw some of that?”

Sirius nodded. “I can’t imagine there are many happy memories that are worth showing to a teenage boy, when it comes to explaining yourself, if you’re Severus Snape.”

“You are one hundred percent correct, there,” Elodie said. “Wait,” she corrected herself. “Ninety-five. He was friends with Lily before Hogwarts. Those were happy times.”

“And Harry got to see that?” Sirius said, a hungry look on his face. He looked over at the Pensieve, both hands coming up to grip the sides of the basin as though he needed its support to stay standing. 

“What’s going through that impulsive brain of yours,” Elodie murmured, stepping closer to him and sliding an arm around his waist.

“I want to save all of my memories of James and Lily for him.  _ All of them,” _ Sirius said, turning to look at her with a defiant expression as though he expected her to object immediately.

“I think that’s a good idea, but,” she said, waiting for his reaction.

“But?” Sirius prompted.

Elodie laughed. “I was expecting you to explode at me,” she confessed.

“Ha! Yes, that was one of my choices, but I trust you, you know. If you have a problem with it, I want to hear what it is first.”

She kissed his shoulder. “Thank you. I think he would be too overwhelmed right now. We can, by all means, start stockpiling memories. Though I’d like to know if they keep well in conjured vials,” she said. “Harry has so much on his mind right now, but he’ll be coming over in two days, for our Second Christmas. You could show him one or two?” Elodie suggested.

“I could do that. For now, though, you need to show me a book cover with his name on it,” Sirius said, his eyes focused on the mist swirling in the Pensieve.

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Elodie was standing in the bookstore, surrounded by displays. She took a step forward and didn’t feel as odd as she’d expected; there was no sense of being a ghost, nor was there any kind of weird mis-match with the sounds she could see and the ‘playback’ of the memory. Elodie did a slow turn, taking in everything around her, and that’s when she saw Sirius. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing in his bedroom, and she looked down to see her silly Christmas dress.

When she looked back up, she saw that Sirius was taken with the scene playing out in the memory. 2007 Elodie was walking over to the table, wearing a typical outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. When she saw the t-shirt, Elodie covered her mouth and giggled.

It said ‘Mischief Managed.’

“Is that a reference to my Map?!” 

“It totally is. I had completely forgotten I wore it this day!” she said. “I came to buy the last book, it had just gotten published, and I wanted to show my support.”

Sirius followed her other self through the store until she stopped at a big display of books with orange covers. He walked up beside memory Elodie as she stretched out a hand and traced her finger across the title.

_ “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,” _ Sirius read aloud. “Holy. Shit.”

“You didn’t believe me?” Elodie said, walking over to the round table on the other side of herself. She was across from Sirius, but the books in front of her were still copies of _the_ _Deathly Hallows._

“There’s believing you, and there’s a book popular enough to fill our kitchen table with copies of books with my Godson on the cover!” Sirius exclaimed, holding his hands out in front of him just like her mother always did, her signature ‘can you  _ believe _ this?!’

“It’s possibly the most popular book series of the past fifty years,” Elodie told him. “In fact, I can’t even imagine how differently your universe will develop, pop culture-wise, without their influence.” 

She drew in a deep breath, and tried to let it out slowly, recognizing for once the panic symptoms she was starting to feel. Elodie had started to feel more relaxed lately, letting herself stop expecting another shoe to fall, allowing herself to stop assuming that some catastrophe would launch her back to her old life. What she hadn’t realized was that she’d had a secret contingency plan: if someone found out she didn’t belong in this universe and somehow took away her ability to do magic (or broke her wand and sent her on her way, like Hagrid), she could at least settle somewhere in the periphery and live as a Muggle. Elodie hadn’t realized she’d been hoping that would be her ‘oh shit’ button until just now, when she understood the flaws in that plan.

Life as a Muggle here would likely be vastly different than what she’d expected. For ten years, from 1999 to 2009, Elodie had lived in a Muggle world that believed in the magic of Harry Potter, albeit artificially. This universe had no such joy. Not only that, but Elodie had allowed herself to forget what happened to Muggles who accidentally learned about magic. They weren’t patted on the head and given the chance to live normal lives.

Their memories were wiped.

She gasped, grateful that this was a memory constructed around her and not a real store full of people to see her have a total freak out. Elodie felt like her lungs were suddenly incapable of expanding, like the glue of dread had seeped into them and were binding them together. It felt like she could just barely suck in enough breath to stay conscious, and she pictured her lungs slowly opening, gooey and resistant, like a grilled cheese sandwich imperfectly cut in half.

“Ellie!”

Sirius came over and held her up with an arm around her shoulders and his hand clasped in hers as she coughed and coughed, trying to adjust to the act of breathing again. Elodie tried to apologize even as she remembered it was possible to breathe through her nose again.

“I’m sorry, I--”

“Shh, shhh,” he said, leaning far over and tucking his hair back so she could see his eyes. “You’ve got it, you’re doing it.”

“What, breathing?” she asked after another minute of readjustment. Elodie stood straight up again, her hand still holding tight to Sirius’s for balance and grounding.

“Breathing, living here, magic, all of it,” he answered. “You looked torn in between here and there, for a bit.”

“Felt like my lungs were back in my old life with the rest of me here struggling without them, to be honest,” she said. “I guess I didn’t even let myself think about how much was different between the two, how much is changed.”

“Well, before we head back out of this memory--” Sirius turned and looked at the table of books and the other version of herself standing there, dithering about whether to buy them. “Think about what you want to make better, not just what is different?”

“Well, I want to save Moody, that’s a given,” Elodie said decisively. She closed her eyes and could see the scene in the fourth movie so very clearly, a character (she couldn’t remember which) looking down after opening the expanded chest that Moody was trapped in, looking down at his disheveled body lying farther down inside of it than should be possible. “He doesn’t deserve to be trapped like that,” she said out loud.

“Trapped?” Sirius said, an odd sort of unhappiness in his voice.

Then Elodie remembered what her scattered mind had managed to forget:

She hadn’t planned to tell him the whole truth about Moody. 

To Sirius, Harry Potter’s safety was paramount, and she totally understood that as a valid and noble driving force. As someone who had read the book that covered this very time period, she knew for a fact that Harry’s life wasn’t in danger around Barty Crouch, Jr. Crouch was, in fact, carefully guiding Harry through the Tri-Wizard Tournament with the specific purpose of keeping him alive so that he could deliver Harry to Voldemort at the very end of it. To tell Sirius about him would be to light a fuse that wouldn’t allow itself to be put out until the threat was extinguished along with it. And Elodie had just lit that fuse by  _ accident. _

She couldn’t tell him about the graveyard scene. She shouldn’t have to anyway-- she was going to prevent it by saving Moody from his awful imprisonment. Right now, though, she needed to tell Sirius the truth. At least he was with her inside a memory, physically locked in a room that magic couldn’t destroy. That might help with the reaction she assumed was forthcoming.

“Elodie?” he prompted. He’d taken a step back from her, and had released her hand. She looked at him and saw her other self shake her head and walk away from the table, behind him. The memory was ending, soon.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t have any proof, and I need suspicion to fall on the correct person, not the American witch who basically appeared out of nowhere and is influencing things behind the scenes,” she said, feeling her body language fold in on itself as she crossed her arms and shrugged the tension she was feeling up into her shoulders.

“Where should it be, then?” he asked, his voice less confused and more angry sounding, now.

“On the Death Eater using Polyjuice to look like Alastor Moody,” Elodie told him, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Sirius’s jaw clenched tightly along with his fists. He shook his head, the action seeming to be made partly in anger and partly in disbelief.

“The…” His incredulity seemed to be robbing him of the power of speech.

“I was trying to lead Albus and Harry to the right way to unmask him. The next step after having Harry look for things that are unusual about how he’s acting is to point out that if he’s constantly drinking from a flask, does he smell like alcohol?” Elodie said to Sirius. She felt like they were both just barely holding onto their composure, and she took a step forward. “I planned to push for something drastic to happen in the next two weeks.”

Sirius nodded almost absently, his face a mixture of horror, concern, and fear. “So you’re saying there’s a  _ Death Eater _ living and working side by side with Albus Dumbledore. With Minerva McGonagall.” Sirius shook his head again, and this time it was in frenetic movement, back and forth almost fast enough that his features looked blurred. “With Severus Snape?” he said, after a long pause.

“Yes, but he hasn’t been called back--he’s a spy. Will be a spy... he isn’t called to be one yet, though,” Elodie said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in what felt like no particular order, as if her fear about how Sirius would react to what he was learning was jumbling everything up into word soup in her brain. “He turned away, after Lily.”

Sirius had stopped shaking his head but was now shaking his hands in front of him, bouncing them up and down like he was trying desperately to slow down the pace of the information that he was learning.

“Snape,” he said, the venom in his voice coloring the next thing he said even as his face drained of color. “‘Isn’t called…  _ yet?’” _

“He’s got the mark, just like Karkaroff,” Elodie said, but the next thing Sirius said told her that the state of Severus Snape’s soul wasn’t at issue, right now.

“No, Elodie-- ‘Yet?’” Sirius repeated, the pale look of his skin reminding her of his Azkaban booking picture in the third movie. “Just how bad does all of this get?” he asked in a hushed voice. Around them, the memory ended, and the store dissolved around them. The place they were standing wasn’t dark, but everything around them was.

Now Elodie shook her head. She didn’t know how to keep any of what she knew from him anymore. She kept up the motion as he had, but more gently, each shake of her head a repudiation of what she was about to tell him.

“You die,” she said in a miserable voice that sounded more desperate as she added names. “Remus dies. Albus dies. Dora dies.” The tears flowed unchecked, and Elodie covered her eyes with her hands. “Moody dies. Cedric dies. So many students, Sirius. I--”

Sirius dragged her against him with the roughness of shock-induced emotion, and she could feel a tug as he pulled them out of the Pensieve with magic. With her still pressed to his chest, Sirius moved the two of them back until he sat on the bed, reaching down to haul her up onto the bed beside him, falling backwards so that she was resting on his chest. Elodie held onto him with fistfuls of his shirt, her green dress caught uncomfortably between his leg and the bed from the way he’d hauled her up. She’d stopped crying and was just holding onto him for dear life. She felt like every breath of Sirius’s that moved her gently up and down against him was a victory against wherever he had been living in the books.

He slid his hand comfortingly over her hair and across her back. “You’ve known that this whole time, haven’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.

Her whispered ‘yes’ was barely audible.

The steady upward and downward motion of his chest hitched and held, and she lifted her tear-streaked face to look at him. Sirius’s eyes were closed so tightly that there were wrinkles and creases all around them. Elodie painfully opened one fist, stretching her fingers to adjust them to the feeling of relaxing that strong a grip. She lifted her hand to brush his hair back from his face as gently as she could. He didn’t open his eyes, but he reached up and laced his fingers through hers.

“Were you going to tell me?” he asked quietly.

Her response was swift and fierce.  _ “Yes. _ It’s not for over a year. I’m hoping we can avoid that entire evening.” She could feel his unexpected laugh from where her body was pressed against his. 

“One thing at a time, then?”

“Again, yes. First Moody--”

He interrupted her. “You said he was trapped?” 

“He’s in a chest of some kind, it’s extended to hide him. Crouch needs his hair to continue making Polyjuice.” 

As she was speaking, he pulled her hand to his lips, where he kissed her palm. Then he disentangled his hand from hers and turned sideways, and for his comfort, she let go of his shirt with her other hand.

“Crouch? Wait, before you tell me--” Sirius reached up and cupped her face in his hands, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. Then, he leaned in, face to face with her. “You said it’s a kid’s book series. So it’s triumphant, at the end? It’s worth it?”

She’d told him it ended well before, but after what she’d just told him, she understood why he needed her to answer that question tonight. Elodie knew that by pausing at all she was saying no, but she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. She hadn’t even read the ending, precisely  _ because _ it didn’t feel worth it.

“Not without the two of you. Not to me,” she whispered.

At that, Sirius leaned over and kissed her gently. She shut her eyes, feeling a tear fall anyway, despite her attempt to stop it. Elodie couldn’t allow the ‘if only’s’ in her head to rule her, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but feel that she’d failed the man in front of her by not reading what had happened for herself. She had a vague sense of what the sequence of events, but she hadn’t actually  _ read it. _

Right now, that felt selfish.

“Okay. One thing at a time,” Sirius said, clearing his throat as if trying to clear out all of the unwanted emotional weight. She opened her eyes and saw what she’d missed by only hearing him and not seeing him: his eyes were bright and hopeful. “So,” he said, smiling at her even as he brushed away the tear track on her face. “What’s the plan?”

Elodie told him about Barty Crouch, Jr., how it was his plan to guide Harry through the various tasks in the Tournament so he could deliver him to Voldemort at the end of the school year. She told Sirius everything she could remember about the rest of the entire book, talking well into the night, forgetting the fact that it was Christmas, that tonight was the full moon, and that they were trapped in his room together. She told Sirius that he was written to die in a duel in the Ministry, and that Remus was written to die in the final battle against Voldemort. She told him that she had no intention of letting either of those events happen. The conversation was both serious and light-hearted, full of hard truths and hopeful plans.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

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When Elodie woke up, the sun was shining brightly and brutally through Sirius’s un-curtained window,  _ and the door to the bedroom was open. _

“What?!” she said, sitting up. She was alone in the room. “Sirius?” she called out, forgetting that it was 1) likely far into the morning hours, given that she’d been up so late talking with Sirius; and 2) that meant Remus was probably trying to sleep in the room beside the one she had just screamed their housemate’s name from.  _ “Shiiiit,” _ Elodie said under her breath. “Sorry, Remus!” she whispered to herself, facepalming.

Before she got up, she decided to take full advantage of how stupidly huge Sirius’s bed was. She stretched luxuriously, arching her back and reaching as far up as she could to grasp the very edge of the mattress.

A string of  _ very _ filthy oaths came from the doorway. She looked up to see Sirius staring, slack-jawed.

“Close your mouth, Mr. Black,” Elodie said, blushing. “Sometimes a girl’s gotta stretch!”

“But can I  _ help?” _ he said, suddenly taking a running leap at her. Elodie threw her arms over her head, giggling and trying not to be very loud as she did so. 

He did not squash her, somehow. He actually landed on the bed as Padfoot, and she didn’t realize until he’d started enthusiastically licking her arms where she was holding them up to protect her face from his leap.

She ended up rubbing his belly.

“You are unbelievable, you know that, right?” she asked him. He did a complicated sort of doggie roll over and sit up kind of thing, and morphed back into his human form.

“I know,” he rumbled. He threw himself back onto the bed, arms crossed behind his head. “What do you think unlocked the door? ‘Cause he’s going to lock us right back in when he wakes up, I’d wager.”

“Oh?” she asked, settling into a similar position, but hugging her knees to her chest instead, feet in the air.

Sirius turned his head to look at her with a hungry sort of expression that filled her with unexpected heat. “I think he expected us to come out with some sort of an agreement.”

“You mean the fact that you’re still in one piece doesn’t mean I agreed not to kill you with my bare hands?” Instead of taking up with her joking tone, though, Sirius doubled down.

“Be mine?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she said, almost without thinking about it. Then, to reinforce her answer, Elodie rolled over and up onto her knees, leaning over to kiss him, going so far as to press one trembling hand over where his wrists were crossed over each other, above his head.  _ “Yes.” _

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Elodie couldn’t stop thinking about those moments, even when she was on the couch ostensibly going over what she remembered about the Second and Third Tasks. 

“You drew on your face with that thing,” Sirius said. Elodie blinked at him for a few seconds, wondering how long he’d been sitting beside her on the couch.

“I--what?” she said. Sirius pulled the hand she had by her face up where she could see it. She was holding a Muggle ink pen.

“Hold still,” he told her. He held her chin gently with one hand and cast a spell that gently cleaned off ink from her face.

“Wow, I usually chew on the  _ other _ end,” Elodie said, blushing.

“I’ll take full responsibility for distracting you,” Sirius said, leaning over to kiss her gently. She felt as affected by that as she had been from the twenty minutes they’d spent kissing less than an hour earlier.

“I think you are bad for my brain,” Elodie told him when he pulled back.

“Just need practice, that’s all,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Speaking of your brain, look this over? I’m sending it to Harry no matter what, but you can have veto power.”

It was a letter that started out talking in excited terms about their planned Christmas celebration the next day before getting serious and discussing worries about ‘Professor Moody.’ Sirius wrote that he didn’t recall seeing the Auror drinking to excess in the past, and that he was concerned about the implications of this.

At the very end of the letter, he told Harry that he wanted to make sure Harry knew what it was like to observe an adult under the influence of alcohol so he could be better informed about Moody.

Elodie looked over at Sirius and raised an eyebrow.

Instantly, Sirius became defensive, which told Elodie that he was at least in  _ some _ ways cognizant of how unconventional this letter was.

“Look, you’re right, this is the best way to convince Harry that there’s something wrong. Do you remember anything about his aunt or uncle drinking? If not, Harry might not have any idea how truly different adults can behave under the influence!”

“Did you spend all morning coming up with this justification?” Elodie asked him point blank.

Sirius looked away, but he punched his own leg in frustration.

“Hey,” Elodie said in a soft, loving voice. She covered his fist with her hand, gauging how upset Sirius was by how little he relaxed it. “He’s coming here. We can talk to him about it, all right? In person is probably better?”

Now Sirius turned to look at her, and the glittering intensity in his eyes was enough to startle her. “Can I be calm enough to talk about it? Let me send the letter.”

She looked at him for a long minute, taking in the tenseness of his body language and remembering how the only thing that had derailed his furious reaction to learning about the fake Professor Moody had been learning about all of the deaths that were to come. Harry deserved a Sirius that was capable of smiling and laughing with him, Elodie told herself. Ron needed to spend time with a Sirius who didn’t scare the utter crap out of him.

“Send the letter, then,” she told Sirius.


	37. The Unbearable Act of Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie finally gets up enough courage and time to herself to view Albus's Christmas present--the Pensieve memory of his visit to her dying mother in America.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has lost a dear loved one, especially a parent. Would that fate could offer you this same opportunity that Elodie has been given!

 

Sirius told her that he planned to give Buckbeak a Christmas trip flying around his favorite local wilderness spots, and once he’d gone out the front door, Elodie was alone with her thoughts again. After ten minutes of this, and seeing after she cast a  _ Tempus _ charm that she still had at least an hour before lunch, she made a decision. She was going to go look at the memory of her mother and Albus, since Remus was likely to sleep into mid-afternoon, and Sirius was probably going to be gone for a few hours as well. Now was the perfect time.

Elodie got up, tidied up her little ‘study’ area, including placing the more spoilery of her notes somewhere safe, and then she walked over to the hallway that led to Sirius’s bedroom. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid Remus would hear her through the doorway, given that he’d just experienced his transformation the night before. Something inside of her wished she had the right to just open the door to his room and curl up beside him. As much as she was starting to fall in love with Sirius, as much as she loved him in many ways already, he was not the same kind of relaxing.

She settled for hovering a hand at Remus’s bedroom door, without touching it.

Then, she walked with purpose toward Sirius’s bedroom, in through the open door, shutting it. It was time to see her mother again, time to hear what her last words were, or at least, her last words to someone Elodie knew and loved.

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When Elodie put her face into the Pensieve, she at least knew what to expect this time. It didn’t prepare her all that well, though. Nothing can prepare a person for seeing a loved one in a hospital bed, and Laurel Merriman’s presence there was as much a shock to Elodie as it might have been if she had really been there in person. 

_ Knowing _ what she was going to see hadn’t helped a bit.

Her mother looked completely  _ fine. _ She was a little pale, definitely a bit younger than she had been when Elodie had seen her own version of her, years before. As always, her mom had a certain grace to her that made her look comfortable and at ease nearly anywhere she went. Despite the fact that this was Albus’s memory, Elodie and her mother were in her hospital room, waiting for his arrival. She was able to see the way her mom was holding a piece of parchment, smoothing the slightly curved edges of it repetitively against her leg until there was a brisk knock at the door.

“Oh! Come in?” her mom said. She took the scroll from her lap and rolled it up, but instead of putting it aside, she tucked it into the blanket that covered her chest halfway up.

Albus Dumbledore came through the door, smiling and bowing slightly on seeing her. He had a strange sort of crackling magic surrounding him, and Elodie suddenly realized that it must be part of the magical quarantine that surrounded her mother. As she looked at Albus more closely, she saw that actually, he seemed for a short time to have a kind of dual layer of the sparkling magic layer, until he walked farther into the room and the second layer was stretched to breaking point and fractured off, leaving the original bubble of protection that surrounded him from head to toe intact.

“Hello, I hope I am not disturbing you?” Albus said politely.

“Not at all, Mr… Dumbledore, I take it?” her mother guessed.

Albus’s smile was broad and rewarding. Elodie walked over to stand at her mother’s bedside, so that she could see both participants of the conversation more easily.

“Yes indeed! I’m pleased to meet you. Forgive me for not taking your hand, but I fear that while the inside of this protective spell is not unpleasant, I cannot say the same for the outside-in,” Albus said.

“My daughter’s letters are quite descriptive,” Laurel told him proudly. “Please feel free to sit, if that doesn’t cause too much sparking?”

“Thank you, I believe I will,” Albus said. He walked closer to the bed and lifted his wand to call over a chair. Before he cast the spell, though, he turned and pointed to Elodie’s mother with his other hand. “Ah! Are you familiar with the previous iteration of this spell, then?” 

When Laurel nodded, Albus smiled, his trademark twinkle on full display. He held up both hands in front of him, having tucked his wand back into his robe for a moment. Then, he brought his two hands together, the band of glistening protection arcing sparkles back and forth until he was able to show the way his hands were clasped together.

“Much improved, wouldn’t you say?” Albus asked, retrieving his wand and wordlessly calling over a standard ‘easy’ chair that one found frequently in hospitals (even, it turned out, in magical ones).

“Just last year, when we lost Phil, even then, the spell was too volatile for hand-holding,” Laurel said sadly. “I suppose that’s one of the only blessings of something so very Muggle and mundane as cancer. There wasn’t a need for quarantine, once we knew for sure what it was.” 

Elodie’s mother set her hand down near the edge of the hospital bed, and Elodie rushed over to stand beside the space, placing her own hands on either side, even though she couldn’t interact with the memory. Without a clear immersion-breaking action like putting her hand on top of her mother’s and watching it phase through her, Elodie could pretend she was really there, really offering comfort.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Albus murmured. Elodie looked over at him, and the expression on his face gave her a strong impression of someone who could completely understand the intangibility of loss. The next words out of his mouth just confirmed this, for Elodie. “My dear friend Minerva lost her husband just under ten years ago. A loss like that, sudden or otherwise…” Albus sighed and shook his head. “One can only endure, there’s no way to overcome.” He smiled in a gentle way and added, “There’s only the outward appearance of overcoming.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said. Elodie looked over at her mother and saw that she had a hand to her face, and she was grateful that her mother hadn’t moved the hand nearest to Elodie’s own hands. “Yes, grief as a Glamour. It’s as if people expect that we put on our grief, we perform it for that short time that we are living through the first weeks. Most never realize we  _ become _ grief, that we’re wearing our previous selves as a Glamour from that point on, instead.”

Elodie had known that she was going to cry, but she hadn’t expected to cry for the loss of her father, lost these sixteen years past, in her own memory. Hearing her mother speak as the witch she really was in this reality wasn’t as strange as she’d expected, though. It was as if with Elodie’s magic had to  _ naturally _ come her mother’s own understanding of it. Nothing else would have made logical sense.

“I think those words will probably stay with me for the rest of my life, Laurel,” Albus said, sounding stunned. “Thank you for sharing them with me.”

“Oh! You’re welcome,” Laurel said, this time taking both of her hands to her face and covering her cheeks in an action that Elodie knew she herself had inherited. “I can’t help thinking about grief, today. It’s been a kind of surreal day.”

Albus nodded, getting up to stand opposite Elodie at Laurel’s bedside. “I spoke to the doctor before being allowed to come in. I’m so very sorry.”

“I’m taking it in. They say it’s quick, the way Dragon Pox works,” Elodie’s mother said, pressing a hand to her throat. “I was half afraid you’d come with--”

“No, no,” Albus said quickly. “I was to come ahead anyway, and after what I’ve learned about her former mentor--”

It was Laurel’s turn to interrupt, now. “That man will never be within range of my daughter ever again, quite literally  _ over my dead body!” _ she declared with undisguised venom in her voice. “I’m just sorry he was able to discover my condition before he fled. He came here, did you know that?”

Laurel was shaking, and Elodie wished she could hug her. Knowing her mother’s temper, though, it wasn’t possible to soothe this, just endure it, until it passed. Laurel Merriman’s temper was a force to be reckoned with, and Elodie had only wished she’d inherited it a few times in her life. Most of those times had to do with confrontations. Had her mother gotten a chance to display her icy, commanding anger towards Marcos Francis, before he got away?

“I had heard,” Albus was saying.

“I told him he would never see her again. That he was to her what a gnat is to a mountain lion--a minor annoyance. Easily forgotten, easily squashed.”

“You  _ GO _ Mom!” Elodie cheered. It was a shame Francis would never know what he’d wrought with his curse. Elodie intended to use this opportunity to improve the world she’d found herself in, especially the lives of the Muggle-born witches and wizards that were so persecuted in the book series. She hoped that Mellie was truly living in her old house, that there was some way to tell her twenty-one year old counterpart about the internet. Could magic be stripped away as easily as it had been given?

Elodie really hoped not. The implications of  _ that _ were fascinating.

“--any message you wish to give your daughter?” Albus was asking. He pulled a flat, folded parchment from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’ll be sending her a magical message explaining what has happened here, though I plan to wait a few hours, so my friend I spoke of earlier can assist me.”

Elodie’s mother opened the folded piece of paper and took a few minutes to read it, a look of shock and hope suffusing her face as she folded it back up. She looked around the room as if to see something or someone that was hidden, but Albus shook his head and mouthed a word Elodie couldn’t see from that angle.

“Well, most immediately, I want her not to feel guilty for not coming here. She’s  _ safe, _ and that’s all that matters,” Laurel said fiercely. “Her letter said that she’d gone to my Muggle funeral in those memories he forced on her. She said it was awful, and honestly, that’s as much funeral and loss as I’d ever want her to feel. Mr. Dumbledore?”

“Albus, please,” he said.

“Albus. She says she looks and feels older. Is she--” Laurel broke off, wiping away a tear with a knuckle. She cleared her throat and then spoke again. “Does she look okay? She says she has aged up to thirty-six years old. I am not sure I could imagine myself the mother of a thirty-six year old daughter! But if she’s happy -?”

“She is as full of life as she was when I met her,” Albus said in a reassuring voice. He chuckled. “Perhaps even more so  _ now, _ as when I first met her she was in Francis’s grasp. With those years of memories, she’s matured away from the fear and anger she was so careful to conceal, before.”

“I’m so pleased to hear that,” Elodie’s mother said in a small voice. “Give me your hand for a second? I’ll bear the sting,” she said, holding out her hand for Albus’s. She winced when she took it, and the sparkles intensified. “It’s just that… yes, it’s hard to imagine having a thirty-six year old daughter, but to  _ not _ have one… To die before--”

There was a shower of sparks as Laurel released Albus’s hand and covered her mouth, holding back a thick sob. Elodie did the same, five months and ten inches away from her mother. 

When Elodie’s eyes were clear enough of tears that she could see the room again, she saw that her mother was wiping her cheeks with a signature phoenix-embroidered handkerchief. She laughed, despite the situation. Albus was probably going to go bankrupt on those things. He was using one himself, she saw.

When Albus was finished dabbing at his eyes, he did something Elodie didn’t expect, even though, knowing Albus as she did, perhaps she should have.

He turned towards her and said, in a clear, gentle voice, “Elodie? I hope you are all right, my dear.”

For one stunned second, Elodie thought he might be able to see her. Then, logic kicked in. Albus must have planned for her to see this memory. He would know where she most likely would stand (beside her mother’s bed), and he would probably know how she would be feeling (wrecked). There wasn’t really much point in responding, but she did, anyway.

“I’m here, I’m managing,” she said, surprised at how ragged her voice sounded.

“Laurel, what is most comfortable for you? Can Elodie sit on the bed, here?” Albus leaned over and planted a firm hand on a part of the bed that was blanket-free, as Elodie’s mom loved to tuck her blankets around her crossed ankles.

“Yes, I can picture her sitting there,” Laurel said. 

“She comes up to here on me,” Albus said, gesturing. He was right, too, as Elodie saw when he came around to her side of the bed. Albus sat, resting a hand where he thought Elodie’s eye line would be. It made her uncomfortable, but Elodie sat right where Albus was sitting, and when she turned her body toward her mother, it was as though her mom was making direct eye contact with her.

Elodie didn’t know whose hug she wanted more, in that moment. Her mother’s, which was so tantalizingly close and yet forever out of reach? Her father’s, lost long ago in memory but as strong as iron in her mind? Remus’s, no longer something she had to beg and plead and sneak, in order to obtain? Or Sirius’s, hers for the asking, and more besides?

“I’m sure right now, my dear friend, the thing you’d like most is a hug. I wish I could reach across time and give it to you right now,” Albus said as he stood, speaking in that supernatural way he had of knowing just what to say. “The best thing I can give you in this moment is the thing you couldn’t have at the time: a private, loving moment with your mother. I will be standing over by the door, as the memory would end without me.”

“Thank you for this,” Elodie said, hearing her mother’s voice echo her exact words as they spoke them together.

Before Albus walked away, he raised his wand and conjured a small sparkling star, positioning it right where Elodie’s head would be, far enough back that Elodie herself couldn’t be distracted by it. Now that Laurel could orient herself, he turned and walked away. Elodie didn’t watch him go, because she was captivated by the way her mother’s eyes seemed to lock onto hers.

“Hello, my very dear one,” Laurel said to Elodie. “I miss you! I adore your letters.” She reached into the blanket at her waist and pulled out the scroll that Elodie had seen her reading when she’d started the memory. “Albus wrote me a little mini note, just now, saying that he’s going to show you this memory, but he’s going to wait a few months. I don’t want to break your immersion, my dearest,” Laurel said, smiling wryly. “--but I need you to know that I want you to be doing better  _ now _ than you would have been doing, in person. I want you triumphant.”

“I’m so happy, mom, I can’t even begin to tell you,” Elodie said. She didn’t want to elaborate for too long, because the odd realness of the moment would be ruined by crosstalk.

“I have always been proud of you. You are, as I’ve always said, my life’s work,” Laurel said, smiling through the tears that flowed silently down her face. “And nothing makes me more proud than to be able to tell you this: that your former mentor has failed so miserably that he might as well never have been born at all. Talk about triumphant!” she said, throwing one fisted hand up in the air with joy.

“I’m pretty sure they burned the body, even,” Elodie said. She was surprised that she didn’t feel as much hatred as she expected. Five months was a while, but it wasn’t very long, in the grand scheme of things. She felt mostly embarrassed for him; he’d accomplished very little by throwing away his life in the attempt to destroy hers.

“I hope that by now he’s starting to be a fading memory,” her mother said. “But enough about him. Mr. Dumbledore sent me a letter this morning full of all kinds of information about you and your life. I wondered at the time why he would do that, since he said he was coming to see me later in the afternoon!” Laurel looked past Elodie to where Albus was standing, and Elodie glanced back, seeing his smile and nod. “Now I know it was for  _ this _ moment,” her mom said, her voice softening to almost a whisper. 

“He’s sneaky,” Elodie whispered, nodding.

Laurel dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “He said you’ve brewed Wolfsbane!” Elodie wanted to interrupt that at this point, it hadn’t been completed, but as usual her mother knew her so well. “Don’t you say it’s not finished, because for you, right now, it’s months later. And I know your skill,” Laurel said, shaking a finger at where Elodie sat on the bed. “He said your friend, the werewolf, is a good man. I hope your friendship is as strong today as Mr. Dumbledore has implied!”

“It is,” Elodie said, feeling another surge of emotion.

There was a knock at the door, and Laurel’s face fell for a split second before she smiled at Elodie again. 

“I need a breathing treatment,” she said with a bit too much forced brightness to her tone. “I need you to know that this is far better than living a bit longer and dying without saying goodbye, as you wrote in your letter. Because, dearest, you are as real to me in this moment, even though I can’t physically see you, as I am to you, in the memory. Our physical presence is only a facet of our personhood. When who we are fades to ‘who we were,’ it just means we stop adding memories. It doesn’t destroy the ones we’ve already made. I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

Laurel broke off and started coughing, and Elodie had to force herself to stay put as a healer walked in, fully encased in the magical protection spell. The healer pulled out his wand and cast a few spells, his voice soft and sympathetic. Even though in her mind, Elodie knew this was an echo of something that had already happened, it was hard for her to watch without trying to physically intervene in some way. The handkerchief that her mother had been coughing into was resting on her lap, and there was bright red blood on it.

Elodie used the knowledge that her mother could look her in the eye if she stayed exactly,  _ precisely _ where she was to keep herself still. It was  _ hard. _

“I need you to go live your life, my dear one,” Laurel said, turning to look at Elodie, despite the healer in the room. She didn’t turn to explain to him, either. Elodie loved that confidence that her mother had--she’d always been like this, spending her time on what was necessary, explaining later, if the situation allowed. “I’m saying this not because I want to, but because I need to: Goodbye, Elodie. I love you.”

“Goodbye, Mom,” Elodie said. “Thank you Albus,” she added, feeling the scene so powerfully real in her mind that she wanted to thank him where her mother could hear. She cast the spell to lift her out of the memory, hoping that the ugly way she was now sobbing wouldn’t obscure the spell so much it wouldn’t work.

It did work. Elodie found herself standing in Sirius’s room, but that was painful too. Her mother knew about Remus, to a certain extent. Laurel Merriman would  _ never  _ know about Sirius Black.

Elodie ran from the room and down the hallway, throwing a hand out to support herself on the wall. The tears were cathartic for the most part, but they still hurt like hell, and she didn’t see them stopping anytime soon. She was doubled over, one hand balled up in the fabric of her shirt at her belly, the other half crammed into her mouth, trying to stop all sound. That in itself was futile.

Suddenly, gentle hands were lifting her up into a stand and folding her into an embrace. She couldn’t really hear clearly, the rushing sound of her own misery had been roaring in her ears since she’d pulled free of the Pensieve, but what she didn’t hear was any kind of shushing sound.

She heard Remus’s voice. He was saying, “Let it out, let it all out,” over and over. 

Remus led her into a room, his room, she realized, but what mattered was that he was there for her. He swung her up into his lap as she cried, one arm thrown around his neck, the other clutching his cardigan. There seemed to be yards of it, and she buried her face into the fabric and sobbed her heart out. It smelled like comfort, like Remus. Chocolate, parchment, and his generous heart.

Not once while she cried did he ever soothe her by telling her to stop.

When Elodie finally lifted her head, it was actually dark in the room. She had some difficulty orienting herself to where she was. When Remus had first sat down, it had been on the edge of the bed. Now, it took her a few minutes for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she saw that Remus had scooted them up so that he was resting against his headboard, a pillow stuck behind his head. He had fallen asleep, one hand heavy at her waist, the other resting beside where her legs were curled up, as if he had made sure she didn’t fall off of the bed even if he wasn’t awake to prevent it actively.

She didn’t need to pick her head up much to see this, and Elodie rested her head back on the pillow of Remus’s cardigan on his chest to think about what to do.

Elodie did not want Remus to view his instinct to comfort her as anything to be ashamed of or upset at himself about. The question was, which action by herself would lead to less self-recrimination on his part? Staying put or getting up?

“I can hear you thinking,” Remus said softly. Despite herself, Elodie’s pulse leaped and she could feel her face burning. She could feel Remus’s body tense underneath her, and wasn’t  _ that _ just the craziest experience, she thought. In the past, she’d never have let herself be in this kind of position to show him how she felt, and she realized she had been keeping to that even after she wanted him to  _ know _ how she felt.

She’d finally given up on that prohibition, but now was probably the absolute worst time to let anything slip.

“I was trying to decide how to get up without giving you an existential crisis,” Elodie decided to say.

To her surprise, Remus laughed.

“I already had one,” he admitted. “You fell asleep first.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry,” she said. “How about I just roll that way for now? I don’t have much dignity after crying my entire body weight of tears on your ridiculously large sweater, but what I have left, I cherish.”

Without waiting for him to agree or disagree, she turned her body to roll onto the small section of bed beside where Remus was propped up. It went about as well as she’d expected, and once she got all of her hair back out of her eyes, she was able to see Remus’s face, because he’d conjured a light to hover over the bed and illuminate the room. Remus’s face wore a guarded but content expression, which basically told her that he had probably fallen asleep thinking very hard about how he’d gotten into the situation where he had his best friend’s probable girlfriend asleep on his chest, in his bed.

Elodie decided to be magnanimous, in light of that.

“As you probably figured out, I was looking at Albus’s Christmas present,” she said. Then, with a wryly apologetic look on her face, she added, “Do you need me to wring that out for you?” when she saw Remus lifting the fabric of his cardigan from his chest.

“Give me a little credit,” he said. Then, he stretched it out, and she saw to her amazement that he had clearly put it on with the express purpose of comforting her with it, because his left arm was in the right armhole. This left the bulk of the fabric bunched up at his chest, right where she’d needed it.

“You are a pro, Remus Lupin,” Elodie said admiringly. “I can’t even complain about ruining your shirt with my tears if you’ve basically draped yourself in a dropcloth beforehand!”

“No one hearing your misery could have acted any differently, Elodie,” he said, getting up and carrying the cardigan over to his closet. He took out an empty hanger and took his time placing it just right. 

She took that opportunity to check the time, and saw it had been over an hour since she’d gone to look at the Pensieve. She should start baking the things she planned to make for Harry and Ron’s visit the next day.

“Well, your comfort is exactly what I needed, Remus. Thank you so very much,” she said.

Remus didn’t turn around to look at her as he said, “I’m glad I was able to help you not be alone, but I’m sure it would have been easier to have relied on Sirius--”

“I meant what I said,” Elodie interrupted. “Thank you.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction. He’d probably had his fill of confronting her brand of reality today as it was. 

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It wasn’t until she was wrist deep in biscuit batter before Elodie realized she didn’t even know if Sirius was home, yet. She had a moment of feeling proud of herself for not feeling guilty for something that she shouldn’t feel guilty over before she shook her head at herself. Remus might not have all the facts, despite her efforts to the contrary, but  _ Sirius _ knew pretty much everything. Had he come home and seen them on the bed?

In that context, Remus’s thoughtfulness with his cardigan looked more like premeditation. Elodie sighed. 

“Too much to hope that’s those bunny biscuits, I imagine,” Remus’s voice came from the kitchen doorway.

“Holy  _ shit, _ not today, that’s for damned sure,” Elodie said without thinking. She managed not so smack herself in the forehead after she listened to what she said, and turned to look at Remus apologetically. “That’s-- ugh, I’m sorry. That recipe has some emotional components to it. God knows I’ve had plenty of emotions running through me today! That’s what I meant.”

“Apology accepted,” Remus said mildly. He pulled out an actual mini notebook from his back pocket and  _ Accio’d _ a quill from his chair, scratching out something on the notebook while giving her an impish look. “More information on that recipe is always appreciated, though.”

“You’re no Sherlock Holmes, Remus Lupin,” Elodie said, biting her lip. She squeezed her dough between her fingers one last time, then balled it up to be chilled for an hour. 

“If I were, I would be convinced you’re banking on the fact that I’m not,” Remus said enigmatically. “I was just thinking of looking for a bakery--”

“Oh, don’t do that,” she said, letting her eyes bug out at the idea with her head safely buried in the magical refrigerator where he couldn’t see her reaction. “Your birthday is what, March tenth?” she asked him as she shut the fridge door.

“Yes.”

“How about I make some by then for sure? Might not be right on the tenth though?” she offered. Elodie hoped that her reticence looked like it was more about how labor-intensive the cookies were to make and less about how she wasn’t sure what would happen, the next time she tried to bake them. She ran the tap to wet a cloth and started to wipe off the counter with it. It would just figure that in three months’ time when she went to make them for Remus, that her feelings would have faded just enough that he wouldn’t touch them. Elodie shuddered inwardly. What a conversation  _ that _ would be!

“As long as you don’t do them halfway through February, I’m sure that’ll be fine,” Remus joked. “No need to antagonize Sirius any more than normal.”

“Oh lord, you’re right,” Elodie said, covering her mouth with a hand. “Okay I promise I will not make you that particular recipe for Valentine’s Day.”

At that moment, Elodie heard Sirius say, at the doorway, “Remus, excuse me?”

When she turned around, she had just enough time to see Sirius walking toward her, looking emotional. Then he gave her a big hug. He’d been outside, she knew, and somehow he smelled like sunlight to her, along with his usual spicy Sirius scent.

“Not that I don’t like hugs, but what--” she started to say.

“I came home and wanted to look at a memory. I poured in Albus’s memory of the Task and went into the Pensieve,” Sirius told her, still hugging her. He kissed her shoulder and pulled away.

“Ohh,” Elodie said. “When there are multiple memories in at once, you don’t get to pick.”

“I watched the whole First Task before the second one kicked in, the one with your mother. I hope you don’t mind that I watched the whole thing,” Sirius said, his gaze downcast. “I couldn’t pull away. It felt disrespectful.”

“Oh, Sirius, it’s fine,” Elodie said, reaching out to touch his face gently. There was a bit of leaf litter on his shoulder that she picked off and held in her hand, rubbing her thumb against the rough texture of it in her hand. “I was too overcome to put it away, after.”

He shook his head as he raised his eyes to meet hers. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you, after.”

“Remus was, it’s all right,” she said. As soon as she spoke his name, though, Remus pivoted his body where he was leaning his back against the doorway, turning to leave without saying a word. Elodie frowned. She wasn’t trying to cause conflict, she had been trying to reassure. It’s not like Sirius knew the direct circumstances of the comfort Remus had offered, and even knowing all the details herself, Elodie didn’t see any of their behavior as shameful. She’d thought she’d made that clear.

“I couldn’t find you when I came back, I figured you’d gone to Molly,” Sirius said. He didn’t look upset, and Elodie tried to shake her feeling of discontent in the way Remus had just behaved.

It felt like Remus expected her to lie, or  _ worse, _ that she’d tell the truth in a way that would make him look bad, somehow. Elodie rejected both of these possible outcomes without much thought.

“I cried so hard I fell asleep,” she told Sirius. “I probably owe Remus a new cardigan.” Elodie lifted her chin in defiance of any possible negative reaction from Sirius.

“I see,” he said, walking over to the counter beside where she was standing. “I hope that wasn’t too hard on either of you.”

Elodie didn’t hear any of the sarcasm or snark that could have accompanied those words, and she was very grateful. She snuck an arm around his waist and lifted herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss his shoulder.

“I was too busy turning my guts inside out to notice. You’ll have to ask him, except, maybe don’t. He’s not affected by me, I’m sure,” she said quietly. She was happy to hear no sarcasm or snark in her  _ own _ voice, there.

“Sure,” Sirius said. He didn’t sound as convinced as she’d have expected, but he soon distracted her with kisses that led from the top of her head down along her hairline and her jaw. By the time Sirius kissed her lips she was happy to forget everything else in the world but the way he made her feel.

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> Dear Albus,
> 
> I got a chance to view your gift today. That has to be the most thoughtful and amazing use of a Pensieve ever. Thank you so very much! The respectful way you spoke to my mother and the way you gave us both a chance, separated by those months in between, to really connect with each other one last time… I’m speechless.
> 
> If there  _ ever _ comes a time when I can help you in any way, please ask. I can’t imagine I’ll ever be able to repay you, but I know you didn’t do what you did to seek gratitude.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you,
> 
> Elodie
> 
>  


	38. Sunset on a Hippogriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Chance Christmas at Phoenix House brings some pre-visit anxiety and *during* visit anxiety for Elodie, thanks to the implications of the visit showing up in the books.

 

Despite having spent less time on Boxing Day baking than she’d wanted to, Elodie did end up making quite a few biscuits and one fancy cake for the Second Christmas evening that was planned the next day. Remus went out and got some treats as well, all things he knew Elodie couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to make in the time remaining. The big surprise she’d managed to conceal was a Christmas tree that she’d found on her own and levitated to its place in front of the picture window. 

Thanks to transfiguration and conjuration spells, Elodie had re-created a number of her favorite ornaments. She’d gotten a few more from Molly, and on the morning of the twenty-seventh of December, she handed Remus and Sirius each a sheet of paper on which she’d written instructions on how to conjure or transfigure their own favorite ornaments.

“I’m not saying you have to. I’ve printed out two more, and I’m going to give them to Harry and Ron when they come,” Elodie told her housemates at breakfast. “I’d imagine they would be pleased to see ornaments you’ve made using the same method, even if it’s one or two?”

“That is very thoughtful, Elodie,” Remus said.

“I just wanted to think of something we could do that would bring everyone together, and I don’t know enough about Hogwarts to know if everyone gets a chance to decorate a tree, especially this year, when so many students stayed back for the Yule Ball.”

“My first year at Azkaban someone told me it was Christmas Day,” Sirius said. “There was a rotted old branch that got used to, I don’t know, haze the new prisoners. There were a lot of new prisoners that year, but I ‘won’ the damned thing.” His voice on the word ‘won’ was brimming with sarcasm. 

Elodie shook her head against whatever horrible thing he was going to say next, but Sirius didn’t stop. His eyes were shut, probably picturing everything.

“It stank. Probably because it’d been pissed on in protest for twenty years in a row. Far be it from me to break tradition.”

“Pee on this one and Elodie might send you back there,” Remus said.

Elodie’s jaw dropped. She opened her mouth to chastise Remus for talking lightly about such a terrible experience, but as usual, he’d correctly guessed the best way to pull Sirius out of his funk. As Elodie looked back and forth between the two men, she saw Sirius open one eye and then the other, the miserable expression on his face fracturing away as he threw back his head and laughed.

_ “Fuck, _ I don’t know whether to hug you or punch you, Moony,” he finally said.

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Elodie felt nervous as the time for their visitors’ arrival drew closer. She’d stressed about this since it was planned, mostly because it was definitely notable enough to be mentioned in the  _ Goblet of Fire _ book. Despite planning to change things quite drastically, Elodie still felt compelled to remain unnoticed in terms of being mentioned in the series. 

Not even the fact that if she were a canon character, her relationship with Sirius Black would  _ also _ be canon had dissuaded her from her worries. That added to them, actually. An hour before Harry and Ron were supposed to show up, Sirius was sitting in a chair beside the tree casting different wrapping papers on the two presents he’d placed under it. She walked over and sat down on the floor to talk to him.

“Oh, I like this one. Christmas snitches!” Sirius said, pointing. “How about white for Harry and red for Ron?”

“That’s perfect,” Elodie told him.

“You aren’t here to judge my wrapping skills, though,” he guessed.

“No, I’m freaking out a bit, as usual,” Elodie said. “It’s just that I didn’t want to change anything to the point where I would show up in the books, but I don’t see any way that won’t happen, now. Maybe I should go over and visit Molly?” She scooted closer to his chair so she could press her face against the black denim of his pants at his knee. “What am I  _ doing? _ This is exactly the sort of situation I told myself I would stay out of!”

Sirius pet her hair once, then twice, and then he tugged her hair tie free and tossed it into the middle of the room. Then, he started sliding his fingers through her hair the way he liked.

“I love how your way of comforting me always includes a way to soothe yourself,” Elodie said, trying to sound disgruntled about it and failing miserably.  _ That _ had everything to do with the way his hand felt on her hair.

“I get it, why you’re upset, I mean,” Sirius said, using his wand to gather up all of the extra things that had come with his presents for Ron and Harry, including the packaging from the Quidditch supply company he’d ordered their gifts from. “It’s just that you can’t control every variable, including me.”

Elodie lifted her head to look at him. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m happy,” he said. “I’m living in a house that’s not registered to me or Remus. I can’t bake for shit and there’s a mountain of baked goods in the kitchen waiting for them. Your influence is  _ everywhere, _ Ellie. It’s not going to go unnoticed.”

“Arghhh what have I doneeeee?” she groaned, dropping her head back down on Sirius’s leg. 

Sirius leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’ve been yourself. You can’t help it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of-- look what you’ve done! Where would I be living, otherwise?” he pointed out.

“In a cave, most likely,” she whispered.

“And Remus?” Sirius pressed.

“The boarding house, for as long as he could afford to, and after, I don’t know.”

_ “Without _ his books, in whatever shithole he would have scraped enough money together to rent. So with your heart as full of love as I know it is, which option would you rather?” Sirius said, the passion in his voice causing his breath to puff against her hair.

“Sirius,” she started to say, wanting to object but having no way to refute him. Elodie turned her head so she could see his eyes. They were glittering with intensity, as she knew they would be.

“As a  _ reader, _ which would you rather!” he demanded.

“I yield,” she said. “You’re right.” By not elaborating, she was telling him how powerful his argument had been.

“Damn right I am,” he said, stretching down to kiss her forehead.

Elodie kissed his knee and got up. “That’s not going to stop me from feeling bad about it anyway,” she said, grinning impudently at him.

“Get back in the kitchen and finish dinner, then,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows at her reaction.

Elodie reached down and took off her socks. “For authenticity,” she told him before walking into the kitchen.

“I  _ know _ why you did that!” he called after her. “I’m willing to work on authenticity!”

Elodie almost collapsed into a heap in the kitchen upon hearing  _ that. _

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Sirius had told Ron and Harry not to worry about dressing up, and when they came through the Floo from Albus’s office, they both looked casual and mostly relaxed. The kitchen table had been moved farther from the wall and slightly enlarged so that everyone could sit comfortably, and Elodie was grateful that Molly had told her some of their favorite foods. She had prepared a light dinner so that everyone (adults included) could indulge in quite a few sweets afterwards, and when they moved into the living room, Elodie was surprised to find the reason why Remus had come into the kitchen late, after everyone else had already settled at the table.

He’d rearranged the living room for the occasion, without telling Elodie or Sirius. The couch was moved to face the window and the tree, Remus’s lamp, end table, and easy chair was swapped over to the edge of where the couch had been, also facing the window. There was a lot of space to sit, now, with a clone of Remus’s chair along with all of the space on the couch, and the two kitchen chairs Elodie and Sirius had brought into the room before they saw Remus’s changes.

“You might have noticed the tree is a bit bare,” Sirius told Harry and Ron. “The three of us have gathered up or conjured some of our own favorite ornaments; would you two be willing to create some, too?”

“I’ve spent so much time not allowed to mess with Christmas trees I don’t know if I even know what to do with one,” Harry told his godfather.

“Can I create  _ any _ ornament I like?” was Ron’s question.

Remus and Sirius both laughed. They looked at each other, smiled, and turned to their guests. “Yes.”

Sirius turned to look at Elodie where she was sitting on the couch and clasped his hands together in the manner of an evil villain. He rubbed them together and she shook her head at him fondly. Despite his encouragement, she had decided to sit on the couch and mostly watch, given that she wasn’t well known to either Ron or Harry in the first place. Watching had a charm of its own, though. Harry was quite hesitant at first, but soon Sirius’s enthusiasm overcame all, and all four of them were levitating ornaments into their places.

When Remus backed off to sit in his easy chair nearby to watch, though, Elodie saw Ron start to hang back so that Harry could have time with Sirius. The next time Ron happened to look in her direction, she gestured for him to come over and sit with her.

When Ron sat down, it was with a bit of a frustrated sigh.

“Sirius is like a puppy with a new toy when it comes to Harry,” Elodie said in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry if that has made you feel excluded.”

Ron gave her a crooked smile. “A little. It’s not so bad, I just can’t help but feel a bit on the outside. I’m sure Harry feels the same, at the Burrow.”

It was an astute observation, and Elodie smiled encouragingly at Ron. Just as she was about to come up with some kind of small talk, she thought of something.

“I know all about what happened at the last full moon at Hogwarts last year,” she said, careful to keep her voice at a regular volume, since everyone in the house knew about those events, too. “I was thinking, just now, that it might be difficult for you to get a chance to talk about that stuff with anyone. Since I wasn’t there, it might be easier to talk to me? Only if you want to, of course.”

Elodie had deliberately not looked over at Ron while she was speaking, because she didn’t want to give an impression that she was looking for a particular response from him. Whether he spoke to her about it or not was entirely up to him. When she was done, she looked over and smiled encouragingly before directing her gaze back to where Harry and Sirius were now arranging conjured lights on the tree.

“I honestly don’t know what I would say,” Ron said after a few minutes of silence. “So much got turned around so quickly, I’m  _ still _ adjusting.”

“That’s fair,” Elodie said, offering him a sympathetic look. “I think it’s easy to overlook the fact that as Scabbers’s owner, you felt betrayed and lost something, too. If there’s any consolation to take, I can’t imagine that Peter knows more about being a traitor than he knew about being a faithful friend and companion, since he was so well loved by his friends when they thought he had been killed.”

She made the comment on impulse, and her motivation was purely a desire to make Ron feel better about having unintentionally harbored Pettigrew during his years of hiding. Ron’s reaction was unexpected and humbling.

“I’m sorry, but I disagree.”

“All right, I can respect that,” Elodie said, surprised. She turned her body toward Ron so he could see he had her full attention. “Can you tell me why?”

“Every minute that he was Scabbers was a lie,” Ron said quietly, his eyes fixed on a point on the floor near Elodie’s feet. “Even if Scabbers  _ was _ a faithful companion, it wasn’t because he wanted to be. It was because he was scared.” 

Now Ron lifted his eyes to hers, and he looked angry. She knew his fury wasn’t at her, but she felt for him. Here was a boy who’d been attacked by a dog, dragged into a hidden passage, his leg broken, only to find out that not only was his attacker the man who had been trying to kill his best friend, but that even  _ that _ truth he’d been living with the whole school year was a lie. Then he’d had to find out his family’s pet rat was an animagus hiding in fear of the terrible act he’d perpetrated when Ron himself was a baby.

“Pettigrew knows all about being a traitor. He was a traitor every minute he was with me. He was better at being a liar and betrayer than his master was at destroying Harry’s family!” Ron’s hands were in fists on his lap, and Elodie wished she could do something to alleviate the boy’s frustration for him. So much of what had happened that night had involved Ron, but she doubted that many of the adults reacting to all of it had considered that to be the case.

A clapping sound had both Ron and Elodie looking back over to the Christmas Tree. Sirius finished clapping his hands together and held his hands out expansively.

“I have a perfect idea. Ron? Harry? How about a ride on Buckbeak?”

Ron stood up and rushed over to Harry. Elodie couldn’t see Harry’s expression, but she suspected his enthusiasm mirrored Ron’s. Remus’s look of alarm certainly mirrored hers!

“Sirius, that sounds like a--” she started to say.

Remus finished her sentence for her, with the same sentiment. “--dangerous idea on such short notice! What about Ron’s parents, would they agree to something like this?”

“Safer than a dragon, and Harry had to  _ fight _ one for the task, didn’t he?” Ron said. It was a good point, and Elodie watched as Sirius caught Ron’s eye and widened his eyes approvingly. He gave the boys a thumbs-up and turned toward Elodie and Remus as if they were outnumbered.

“Sunset on a hippogriff. I mean,  _ really!” _ Sirius said.

It was a good argument, honestly.

“Are there seatbelt charms?” Elodie asked in a resigned voice. Thankfully, when Remus turned to look at her, he did not look as betrayed as she had expected he might.

“I actually know a spell they use for grammar school Quidditch that would be useful here,” Remus said. “I’ll come out with you and cast it.”

Sirius looked like he could almost float on air on sheer delight after hearing this. He walked over and gave Remus a huge hug, and then he came over and picked Elodie up and twirled her. Despite their agreement about keeping their relationship subtle during Harry’s visit, Sirius gave her a tender kiss after the twirl. There wasn’t a chance of mistaking the sentiments on either side of that kiss, Elodie knew. She glared at him for the split second after he set her feet back on the floor, but as usual, Sirius was entirely unrepentant.

“Coats on!” he announced, leading their guests over to the coat rack by the door. Elodie was left to wave helplessly as Ron and Harry exchanged significant looks.

When Remus came back inside, Elodie was in the middle of straightening up from the tree decorating. She heard him shut the door, unlace his shoes, and hang up his coat, and something inside her couldn’t help but laugh at his timing. She was hunched over as she picked up some of the conjured ornaments where they’d fallen.  _ Accio _ was one thing, but she didn’t actually know enough about them to be able to accurately levitate them by name.  _ So of course I would have my ass in the air when he came back in! _ Elodie groaned to herself.  _ At least I’m not wearing a dress today! Thank goodness for small favors? _

Then, behind her, Remus did something she should have been able to predict. He cast a spell that lifted all the objects that were on the floor in a radius around himself up three feet in the air. Elodie straightened up and turned around. She put her hands on her hips and tried to glare at him, but he looked so mock-surprised that she would be upset with him for helping that she just had to laugh.

“Thank you, I feel obliged to say,” Elodie finally said, after she’d collected the last of the fallen Christmas decorations. She nodded to Remus, and he lowered the tip of his wand to allow the shoes behind him and the other everyday objects that were on the floor to settle back where they belonged. “That’s a very useful spell.”

Remus laughed, a full-bodied, joyful sound that made her heart leap to hear it, despite herself. “I really love that you are so disgruntled about that. You totally want to learn the spell, too-- but it’ll be a couple of weeks before you’ll bring yourself to ask.”

“No, no,” Elodie said, brushing off imaginary dust from her hands and walking over to sit on the couch. “I never get tired of your knowledge of obscure and useful spells that end up making me look like a Muggle in witch’s clothing!”

“I didn’t consider that you might be feeling genuinely inadequate, thanks to the cursed memories,” Remus said, all laughter gone in place of a sober, apologetic expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh dear, you’ve swung too far in the other direction, now!” Elodie protested, smiling her own apology in his direction. “I was honestly just frustrated at my magical ability to be doing something inefficient or embarrassing so often around you!” She stood up and pointed to his chair. “Sit down and don’t feel bad.”

Remus had been basically hovering in friendly distress, and to Elodie, it looked like their in-depth knowledge of each other’s personalities led him to throw his hands up playfully and walk over to sit as instructed. She felt a warm, pleasant sort of happiness to recognize a friend so thoroughly like this. That it was Remus, someone she knew she still loved in a decidedly not-friend-like way was beside the point. Her friendship love for him was as healthy as it could be, and that boundary was as far as she was willing to allow herself to agonize over.

Remus looked over at her with such a penetrating expression that Elodie started to blush, despite herself. She wondered if her thought processes about friend/love boundaries show on her face. If they had, there wasn’t any point in being embarrassed about it, she told herself, so Elodie stopped the anxious fiddling of her hands in the papers she’d brought over from the end table, and looked over at him.

“Something else is bugging you.” Remus said it as a plain, obvious fact, and Elodie sighed deeply, shaking her head.

“Quit that, it’s unnatural,” she said good-naturedly. “Yes, something is bothering me. But your coming inside right as I was bent over picking up things the Muggle way was also annoying, for the record. I’m bugged by Sirius kissing me in front of Harry, if you really want to know,” she confessed to him. “I wanted to keep our relationship a secret from Harry for quite a while longer.”

“Let me guess: you expressed that to Sirius, he seemed to agree, and then made clear that he did not, in a way you couldn’t take back?”

“As usual!” she replied with fake cheerfulness. “It’s just-- Harry’s only just gotten him ‘back,’ for all intents and purposes. He doesn’t need someone new, someone he’s never heard of before coming over and pulling his Godfather away, literally and figuratively!”

“I don’t think that gives Harry enough credit, Elodie,” Remus said. “I hear what you’re saying. You’re afraid that Harry would have good reason to be jealous?”

Elodie nodded, her lips turning up into what looked like a smile, but felt internally like an expression of regret.

“I’d like you to consider that instead, Harry might be pleased to see Sirius has someone to spend time with him during the times Harry isn’t there, someone who clearly cares about him as deeply as you do?”

Elodie blushed. “It’s kind of you to reframe it that way. I guess that’s possible? At the same time, this is all so very  _ new, _ and having it exposed to others like that… well, honestly, it’s unnerving.”

“That’s a rational reaction,” Remus said. Elodie couldn’t help but smile at him. He was so very good at putting others at ease that sometimes she wondered if his arguments were really as compelling as they seemed to be, or if he was just so good at the act of arguing that he convinced her to agree with him by sheer social engineering skill. “I have to say, though, that I think that Sirius’s feelings for you are anything but ‘new.’”

Statements like that seemed to be designed to make a person re-evaluate every interaction for hidden meaning, but Elodie was resistant to this. It was good enough to her, in this moment, to nod and say something carefully non-committal. 

In this case, though, Elodie overcompensated a little. “Well, you  _ did _ say he had a habit of chasing anything in a skirt! You warned me!” she said lightly, avoiding eye contact by stacking the papers she had on her lap with unnecessary precision. 

“Hah! That was before I saw--” Remus’s amused, over-loud voice broke off when she looked up at him sharply. “I was wrong to have said that, back then. I didn’t realize how well the two of you suit.”

Elodie wished her complicated heart could appreciate hearing that sentiment without feeling a twinge of regret because it was Remus, someone she loved so much still, telling her that. She couldn’t even go looking for a spell to make that feeling fade, either, because she’d promised him more Gâteaufidél.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her throat felt like it was denying her the sound of her voice as punishment for her conflicted heart.

“You shouldn’t have any worries about suitability by now anyway, not after the door came open on Christmas!” Remus said in an oddly jovial voice. “There’s only one way  _ that  _ would happen.”

The tension in Elodie’s shoulders went limp all of a sudden, and she tipped her head to the side in extreme confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“In my note? It said there was one way the door would open early?”

“Well, yes, but you didn’t say what it  _ was,” _ Elodie said in exasperation. She wanted to get up and pace but felt like she needed to see the different expressions on his face as he spoke to figure out what was going on.

“It was obvious, Elodie. If you heard it, you’d totally know!” Remus said, shaking his head at her in the same way Elodie had imagined an eleven year-old Hermione Granger had spoken to Ron multiple times in class.

Elodie crossed her legs and very carefully and precisely folded her hands in her lap, raised her eyebrows at him, and waited.

It actually took Remus over a minute to fully grasp the implications of what he’d said along with the way Elodie was acting in response to it. 

_ “Unbelievable,” _ Remus said, rolling his eyes right before closing them in deep frustration. “You must have been asleep.” Remus scrubbed a hand over his face and slumped back in his chair. His voice as he spoke again was almost ragged with fond irritation. “Sirius Black, you have never in your life met a restriction you couldn’t fuck with!” He said this with his head tipped back at the ceiling, as if he were speaking to wherever Sirius was flying, on Buckbeak.

“Remus!  _ What did he say?” _ Elodie couldn’t believe she had to ask, after all of these theatrics.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Remus said. He got up and walked straight into the kitchen without another word.

“Are you kidding me?!” Elodie shouted after him. The unmistakable sound of Remus setting up the kettle for tea was her only answer.

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When Sirius, Harry, and Ron returned, Elodie and Remus were calmly sitting and chatting about a book he’d recently recommended to her. She half expected Sirius to drag Harry to his room and cram his face in the Pensieve, but during a moment when Remus was talking to both boys, she suggested it and Sirius shook his head.

“Am I the one who introduces it to him?” he said. Elodie’s resulting facepalm seemed to be enough of an answer for him. “I’m not greedy,” he said. “I know you don’t want to change much, if we can help it. I can wait.”

In that moment, her arm around his waist and her heart in her throat, Elodie wondered if the first introduction of the Pensieve was  _ after _ Sirius fell through the Veil. She had no intention of letting  _ that _ happen, of course, but there was a bit of a shadow over the rest of the evening, for her. It took all she had not to step forward and interrupt at various points to send Sirius and Harry back to the Pensieve despite what Sirius had said. 

Ron and Harry loved the presents of elbow and knee pads in Gryffindor colors for Quidditch. Elodie was pretty sure that Ron wouldn’t even try out for the House team until the following year, but the truth was that ‘Ronald Weasley loves Quidditch’ could have been in a textbook, and no one who knew Ron would object. The homeyness of the five of them sitting around on the Gryffindor rug and watching Ron and Harry open their presents was wonderful. Elodie had tried to be surreptitious about the fact that she had her camera out for the visit, but Remus made her set it up with the levitating spell and wandless shutter so they could have a group photograph. They framed it as the three of them kneeling with the boys sitting in front of them, all on the rug with the Christmas tree and the big picture window behind it. Elodie knew it would be a truly wonderful picture.

Before it was time for them to leave, Sirius made a point of talking to both Harry and Ron about Professor Moody. He did it in his own outrageous way, and Elodie spent a lot of the conversation with her hands on her hips wearing an outraged expression, but by the time they said goodbye, she felt like Sirius had done a good job.

“Did I scare the shit out of them, do you think?” Sirius asked in the kitchen after they’d sent Ron and Harry through the Floo back to Hogwarts.

“Are you kidding? They think you’re like the best kind of crazy uncle, more like,” Elodie told him.

“Full marks for capitalizing on the ‘might be deranged’ former Azkaban prisoner aspect when talking about how Moody might not be fully himself,” Remus said. “Did the two of you come up with a theory on that and forget to tell me?” he added. He didn’t look too unhappy, but Elodie felt bad regardless. They’d left Remus out of the loop.

“Next time don’t lock us in a room without you if you expect to be in on the conversation,” Sirius said belligerently. “The gist of it is, apparently Moody’s always drinking from a flask, but he doesn’t seem drunk, and something’s off about it. Now you’re all caught up.”

Sirius grabbed his coffee cup and stomped out of the kitchen, but Elodie caught a grin on his face as he did so, and when she shot a look over at Remus to see what he thought of Sirius’s outburst, the exasperated smile he was sporting told her he’d seen through the fake tantrum too.

“The stomping clued me in,” he said to Sirius from the kitchen doorway. “You never could pull it off, even at Hogwarts.”

“Come on, you thought I was at least peeved,” Sirius protested.

“You lift your feet too high,” Remus said. “You look more like a toddler trying to be a Cossack than a grown man angry at his housemate.”

“Cossack an egg,” Sirius said, taking an extended drink from his teacup. He’d used the conjured tile spell that Elodie remembered from their first night as housemates, so the effect now was that he was completely hiding his face from Remus.

“It’s just like you to think that’s a good yolk,” Remus said. He sat down in his easy chair looking smug.

Elodie glared at Remus, but he was completely unrepentant about his pun. When Elodie turned to look at Sirius, he still had his cup lifted to his lips, but the whole contraption was shaking with his silent laughter.

“It’s late, I’m going to bed,” Elodie finally said.

“Going to  _ lay _ down?” Remus asked her with a broad grin. She shook her head at him and went to open the door to the basement.

“Admit it, that  _ cracked you up!” _ Sirius called out to her. 

 

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December 28th, 1994

Dear Sirius,

Before I say anything else, Hermione would like to thank all three of you for her quiet evening in the library yesterday while Ron and I were visiting. I think that message was more for us than for you, but I am passing it along.

Thank you for a fun time. When you drank that Firewhiskey to show us what alcohol breath smelled like, I thought Remus and Elodie were both going to yell at all three of us! 

I have been thinking about Professor Moody’s schedule. On Thursdays he has lunch or class all in a row without a break. When classes start again I am going to watch to see if he drinks anything from his desk instead of the flask. He’s so grouchy everyone complains about Moody on Thursday!

Harry

 

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January 8, 1995

Dear Sirius,

After I sent the last letter I realized I couldn’t watch Moody by myself in all his different classes! Thursdays are mostly Slytherin and Gryffindor for DADA, so I got some of my friends to help. Fred and George Weasley have DADA right before lunch. They said Professor Moody never even sat down or went near his desk, and he only drank from his flask in class. We watched him at lunch but he didn’t drink from anything in a glass, just his flask.

Next was our class, he has us till dinner. He didn’t drink from anything for the second half of our class. Not even his flask. He was shaky toward the end and yelled a lot. When it was time to leave, I pretended to argue with Hermione and saw him open a side cabinet and take out another flask! He stood behind the door of the cabinet and it looked like he was drinking from it.

I don’t think he would have bothered to hide like that if there wasn’t something wrong, do you?

I have an idea for next week but I need to think about it before I tell you. I’ll send another letter really soon.

I hope your New Years was good!

Harry

 

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Wednesday, January 13, 1995

Dear Sirius,

We have a plan for tomorrow that I wanted to tell you about. Fred and George told me that Professor Moody leaves class sometimes before all of the students have gone. Tomorrow they’re going to steal his flask from the cabinet. They think they can play it off as a prank if they get caught or if there’s a hex on the cabinet.

Hermione suggested we pour a bit of the liquid into a vial and put the flask back, so that’s the plan. I just hope I can get the flask back into the cabinet after lunch before Professor Moody comes back.

Is Elodie a Potion Master like Professor Snape? I think I remember you saying that. If I send her the vial do you think she could figure out what it is? We’re going through with the plan no matter what, so let me know.

Wish us luck!

Harry

  
  



	39. Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks into January, Harry Potter makes his move to discover what Professor Moody is drinking from his flask. First Remus, then Elodie head to Hogwarts in the aftermath.

The last days of December and the first few weeks of January were fairly unremarkable for Elodie and her housemates. Remus started his new article with gusto, leading to quite a few days where Elodie had long discussions with Sirius about many different topics. He had surprised her on that score. Whether or not his character had the chance to show that much depth in the books, there were quite a few things Sirius liked to talk about that she wouldn’t have guessed about. She learned a lot about the kind of life he had grown up in, wealth and privilege on the surface, but unreasonable expectations and specific deprivation in private. 

Elodie had been prepared for him to ask penetrating questions about the deaths she’d told him about after Christmas, but any time their conversations veered toward her book knowledge, Sirius shut down. 

It was a cold Thursday on January fourteenth that found all three housemates home for once. 

“I’m home for the rest of the month, finally,” Remus said at breakfast. “I should be more charitable, but honestly, extroverts make very exasperating bosses. Not everyone is comfortable being around their co-workers for long stretches, especially if they usually work at home!”

“You definitely strike me as someone who does better as one of the few adults in the room,” Elodie said.

“That’s why he likes living here,” Sirius remarked.

“You’re just jealous that his watercooler moments are nicer than at Azkaban,” Elodie quipped, getting up from the table and casting a spell to clean her plate. When the silence behind her continued, she turned to look at Remus and Sirius.

“‘Watercooler?’” Sirius asked.

“Never mind, Muggle thing!” she waved off. 

“I’ll be in my room, and it’ll probably feel like I’m not here again, so don’t faint dead away when I come out for lunch?” Remus said smiling as he walked past her and out of the kitchen. She grinned her approval at him before turning back to look at the grocery list she had just started to come up with.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor told her that Sirius was getting up too. It was mere seconds before he had both hands around her, his chest against her back.

“Can I say something you’ll probably hate, but is adorable?” he asked in an almost-whisper, kissing her shoulder after speaking.

“Yes, but I am within stomping range of your toes, even if you do manage to stop me from drawing my wand,” Elodie told him.

“Fair enough,” he said. That was an Elodieism, and it made her feel both touched and freaked out that she could tell the ways she was affecting his vocabulary and behavior. “I really love the way you care about him, still. Even if he doesn’t see it written on your face.”

She tried to pull away from Sirius, on hearing that. His comment threatened the separation Elodie had managed to create, the brick wall she’d constructed between her feelings for Remus and her feelings for Sirius. Elodie shook her head, and Sirius slid one of the hands that he’d been holding her against him with up along her arm. He brushed the pad of his thumb against her lips and said, ‘shhh’ in her ear.

“I’m not upset, you shouldn’t be upset, it’s just very  _ you. _ I’m confident enough,” he said with a chuckle. 

Unable to move away, Elodie turned her body around. As she’d suspected, he didn’t move his hips back to give her more room, so now their body positions were even more intimate than they’d been before. She wanted to say something, if not something that would change the subject, at least one that would shift the subject to  _ him. _ Because she was unhappy with Sirius, she reached her arms back behind her to brace herself on the counter instead of touching him.

_ “Stop,” _ she whispered, making a begging kind of face.

Sirius leaned down and kissed her lightly, softly. “You first,” he teased.

She could tell that he was teasing, and it made her angry but she was more frustrated with him than anything else. He just never knew when not to  _ push, _ and his chosen subject of fixation always seemed completely arbitrary. Elodie had hoped this would be something he’d never bring up, but she had been wrong. Wrong, and probably naive, too, she thought.

When her glare didn’t seem to make a dent, she let herself go limp in his arms. 

He clearly hadn’t expected that, and she almost hit her head on the counter on the way down. 

“Woah! Ellie!” Sirius said, behaving shocked at first, and then annoyed when, after he helped her up, she disentangled herself and walked away from him.

He followed her out to the living room, which had been restored to pre-Christmas levels after a week of leaving the tree up. Elodie sat down on the couch, and Sirius walked over and stood in front of her, almost too close for comfort. That felt symbolic, too.

“Something something ‘lack of support?’” he asked. His eyes looked angry, but the rest of him was loose-limbed, as if he were trying to prepare himself for whatever kind of argument this turned into. Since she’d basically  _ started _ the argument by getting physical, Elodie supposed that she didn’t blame him.

“It’s more that I don’t always know where I stand,” she said, hearing how upset she sounded and making a face. In a kinder voice, she added, “Unconventional is fine, that’s basically my middle name, but my feelings-- that isn’t something I’m doing on purpose. I’m doing it to  _ myself _ first, anyway. Not you!”

Sirius dropped his weight down to a crouch, placing his hands on either side of her hips on the couch. “You’re right, I don’t have anything to complain about in terms of how we are, together,” he said. Then, he winced, and added in an apologetic voice, “I love Remus in my own way, so I don’t begrudge you that. I was trying to say that I don’t feel any less cared for, and I did it the worst possible way.”

He set his forehead down on her lap, his body almost folded in half. 

“But then, you say ‘you first,’ and I know you mean stop how I feel--” she couldn’t stop herself from pointing out.

“I fucked that one up, you’re right. I saw a teasing opportunity and took it,” Sirius rumbled, his breath hot against the fabric of her trousers. He lifted his head to look at her with his chin on her knee, his hair messy, eyes dark. “Forgive me?”

Elodie brushed his hair away from his face. She looked into his eyes and searched them for a promise she didn’t think she could ask. Because of how much the last minutes had stung, though, she asked anyway.

“This thing, the way it’s so complicated, the way  _ we _ started… I don’t think it’s teasable, Sirius. I think poking it with a stick makes it explode.” She looked up at the ceiling, trying to make the tears that were threatening retreat. The last thing she wanted to do was appeal to him with the ‘don’t make your girlfriend cry’ thing.

He had come to know her so well, though.

“I’m listening to what you’re saying, not the face you’re making,” Sirius said.

“Oh, my God, that’s such a ‘model boyfriend’ phrase, did you get a  _ book _ or something?!” Elodie said, looking at him with wide eyes.

“There are books about  _ that, _ too?!” Sirius asked, incredulous.

Elodie pulled on his shirt to drag him over onto the couch on top of her, all insecurities pushed to the side in the wake of his very Sirius-ness.

“Some things you are allowed to improve on, Sirius, but  _ never change, _ do you hear me?” she said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his head down so she could kiss the impish expression off of his face.

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The only thing any of them could talk about during lunch was Harry’s plan to steal Moody’s extra flask from the DADA classroom. Thanks to his letter, they knew it was going to happen some time in the next hour or so.

“I spent a lot of time last night looking for a spell that reveals liquid contents, but most of them are diagnostic. There was one that was specific to potions, but even that one just creates a list of ingredients at how much percent of volume,” Remus told Sirius. “I don’t know if the list is useful for a group of teenagers, even ones as smart as they are.”

“You mean there’s no way to tap your wand on a container of liquid and have a disembodied voice tell you it’s ‘Whiskey!’” Elodie asked Remus indignantly. “What good is this magic nonsense, then!”

“I know you’re teasing, but that would require too complex a spell for everyday kind of casting,” Remus said, smiling ruefully. “More along the lines of the spell licenses at Hellene’s in Diagon Alley.”

“I should really know this as a Potions Master, then, but: how  _ does _ a person figure out what a strange liquid is?” Elodie said. She hadn’t even considered this aspect of her counterpart’s chosen profession when adopting it herself. Her fingers itched for her notebook, which was resting on the end table by her favorite place to sit. She wondered if it would be rude to  _ Accio _ it in the middle of lunch.

“Do you think she’s sitting there listing all the things she needs to learn about analytical charms?” Sirius whispered loudly to Remus.

“She’s working out whether she should  _ Accio _ her notebook,” Remus said in his own stage whisper.

“Ignoring you both!” Elodie said loudly, getting up. She walked out to the living room, grabbed her notebook and a Muggle pen, and marched back into the kitchen.

“I love when you get angry and do things the Muggle way,” Sirius said with a fond look. Elodie narrowed her eyes at him, but she couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up onto her face as she jotted down her notes.

“Changing the subject, I always wondered,” Elodie asked. “Is there a special spell to make things lighter for Owl delivery? Since generally you’d have to use an expiring spell because the recipient can’t cast  _ finite _ on someone else’s spell, but you don’t want it to expire in the middle of the journey!” 

Remus set his fork down and rested his elbow on the table, looking at her with an interested expression. “This is fascinating,” he said. “That is the sort of thing that we’re taught at Hogwarts early on, in Charms and Transfiguration. But you’ve lost your memories of your magical education, so your approach to this is interesting to observe. As a practical example, most spells respond to  _ Finite Incantatem _ no matter who casts it, but there are a few classes of spells that are immune.”

Elodie hated the blush she felt growing steadily up her neck and onto her cheeks. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” she said. “As far as my brain is concerned, I’m a Muggle learning how to be a witch, with all that entails, I guess!”

Remus picked up the last piece of vegetable from his plate with his fingers instead of his fork. “I have missed our book chats. They’ve kind of fallen away thanks to the fact that we don’t really need to schedule a time that we’re in the same space anymore,” he said. Then, he looked up and said, kind of shyly, “Would it be all right to talk more in depth about your perspective on everyday magic? I might be able to teach you the spells that fill in some of the blanks that you can’t remember.”

“I would love that, and not just thanks to your dangling the prospect of an educational opportunity,” Elodie said in a teasing voice. “Thank you. I’d missed them too.”

“As my gift to you both, I’ll stay out of that particular chat,” Sirius said as he stood up and walked over to the tea kettle. “My snoring would be far too distracting.”

8888888888888888

After lunch, Sirius told them he was going to run around outside as Padfoot for a while to work off the tension of worrying about Harry. Elodie scritched the back of Padfoot’s head before he headed out, and then she started on her own distraction: a list. 

 

**Plan for library trip tomorrow:**

  * Look for a spell book with general charm knowledge, as taught in schools
    * Perhaps easier to find books designed for transfer students or home-schoolers?
    * Ask Albus!
  * Look for a spell book with potion-related diagnostic spells
    * Medical texts might be the best place to look
    * See if there’s a ‘So You Want to be a Potions Master’ kind of book???
    * Ask Horace!



Elodie shook her head and laughed. She’d initially thought about looking for some sort of a ‘bridge the gap’ kind of book for adults moving from one country to another. After all, there were books to help immigrants adjust to their new home, couldn’t there be similar books for witches and wizards? 

Then she’d remembered that all the spells were in Latin. They were probably the same all across the world!

“Definitely not the brightest witch of my age,” she muttered under her breath.

“Elodie?”

It was Remus, but he didn’t look like he’d overheard her. It wasn’t likely he’d specifically remember a phrase he’d said to Hermione Granger on  _ that _ particular night anyway, but that didn’t stop Elodie’s internal voice from telling her off.

“Hey there. What do you need?” she said, forcing herself to smile.

“I looked at my books and found one you might find helpful. My mother bought it when I was ten, before she knew they’d accept me at Hogwarts,” he said, holding out a thin volume. She took it and smoothed her hand over the cover, which bore the title  _ School Spells for Everyday Use. _

“Thank you, this is exactly what I was looking for!” she said, peeking inside.

“She had gathered quite a few books by the time Albus showed up with the good news,” Remus told her. The look on his face was fond and proud. “I didn’t actually need to buy any of the class books in the list. She’d bought them all already to study them in case she would have to teach me herself.”

“That is wonderful, Remus. I’m sorry I’ll never get to meet her.”

Remus offered her a thin smile at this, walking around the couch to look out of the picture window. “He’s still running as fast as he was a half hour ago,” he reported. 

Elodie turned her body in her seat to look at him, and he walked back over to the couch and rested his hands on the back of it, similarly to how she remembered he’d done at the Burrow, months before. He looked less weary now, but his face still showed a lot of regret.

“I’m sorry too,” Remus said. For a split second, she couldn’t remember what he had to be sorry for, but his next words reminded her. “She would have liked you. All the secrecy was hard for her.”

Elodie wanted to reach out to him so badly. Their friendship had deepened since that first Order meeting at the Weasley residence, but after all that had happened in between, she sensed that a comforting gesture like reaching out to take his hand would still be complicated. The best she could do was offer her words.

“I always thought that was one of the tragedies of Time,” she said. “How much more full would our lives be if we were able to draw from all of history for our friendships! How often do people miss each other by barely fifty years? Ten years?”

“And sometimes the overlap is nowhere near enough time,” Remus said. “We only had ten years with James.”

“Well,  _ shit,” _ Elodie said. It was becoming a catchphrase. “I was trying to make you feel better, not worse!” She looked up at Remus apologetically.

“Don’t worry, you did. I can’t help but be happy to think that my mother would get along with my friends,” Remus said. Then, he leaned over and squeezed her shoulder, leaving his hand there long enough for her to reach up to squeeze back before he pulled away to walk into his bedroom. Before long, she heard his typewriter, something that she had come to view as a comforting sound.

This peace lasted for a mere twenty or so minutes, however. Sirius came bursting through the front door with a letter, a look of deep concern on his face.

“Remus!” he hollered, throwing himself down on the couch, sweat-soaked and anxious. 

He held out the letter for her to read, but his hand was shaking too much. Elodie set a gentle hand on his, then scooted her leg over and pushed his hand to rest against her thigh. She saw in her peripheral vision that Remus had come over to stand behind them, and so she read the letter out loud.

 

> Thursday, January 14, 1995
> 
> Dear Sirius,
> 
> This is an emergency!
> 
> Harry spilled the rest of the flask when he was putting it back, and Professor Moody caught him. Moody was so angry! We are afraid he will hurt Harry. I cast a spell to break my finger so I could go to the Hospital Ward, but instead, I came to the Owlery to write you first.
> 
> I am afraid to tell Professor Dumbledore about what’s going on. Hermione says it will be fine, but I think it would be better if you or Professor Lupin explain.
> 
> I’m hiding the vial of liquid that was in Moody’s flask in here. It’s in an orange tin labeled ‘OWL FOOD’ in the corner by the door, covered in sawdust.
> 
> Ron

 

“Well, firstly, I know Alastor Moody. I don’t know him well, but I can’t imagine he would do much to actually harm a child in his care, much less hurt Harry Potter,” Remus said. Despite his calm tone of voice, though, Elodie knew that he was upset. He had a white-knuckled grip on the back of the couch, and he kept pushing his hair back out of his eyes, even though it hadn’t fallen down.

“You know Moody, but what if something is wrong?” Sirius demanded. “What if  _ that’s not Moody?” _

Elodie’s hand was already resting on Sirius’s hand, but she swapped hands so that she could rub at his shoulder with the other. Instead of being able to accept their consoling words and actions, though, he stood up abruptly, knocking the letter to the floor in the process.

“Sirius, I hardly know how to react. What are you saying, here?” Remus asked, walking over to stand near Sirius. He reached over as if he wanted to clasp Sirius’s shoulder, but Remus curled his hand back up and out of the way when Sirius started pacing.

“I wouldn’t presume to speak for him, but I think he’s worried that something’s influencing Moody,” Elodie said. A part of her was worried that Sirius’s worry about Harry would overcome any prohibition on telling Remus things they couldn’t possibly know.

Sirius’s pacing brought him back to stand between where Elodie was sitting and Remus was standing. “Look, I didn’t want to sit and wait until something went wrong at the end of the year, but we didn’t even need to wait that long!” Sirius leaned over and picked Ron’s letter up in an angry fist, shaking it at them. “We need to do something. At the very least, get that vial so we can test it. I want to know what the fuck Harry’s professor has been drinking so religiously for months!”

“Elodie doesn’t know diagnostic spells, but Severus might,” Remus said. He turned to walk over to the door, where his shoes were, and he started putting them on.

“You’re going, then?” Sirius asked, his eyes full of manic hopefulness.

“Not only am I going, but I’m going to Apparate outside the grounds and go straight to the Owlery,” Remus said grimly. “From there, I’ll prevail on Severus to help.” As Remus put on his coat and scarf, his expression hardened with a strange sort of determination. “He owes me one.”

“Wait,” Sirius said. “Will you go to Dumbledore no matter what is in the potion?”

Remus’s hands paused as he buttoned his coat, on hearing this. “Do we have enough, if the potion proves benign?”

“It won’t. Stay safe,” Elodie said firmly.

Remus turned his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, then at Sirius, and back at Elodie. He didn’t look suspicious of  _ her _ , he looked suspicious that they were holding something back, which was fair, because they were. There was no time to suss it out, though.

“I will,” Remus said, and Apparated away.

“He’s going to want to have an uncomfortable conversation about how we figured this all out,” Elodie told Sirius.

“More likely he’s going to be grateful. There’s a  _ Death Eater _ undercover at Hogwarts, Elodie. My reaction is going to be minor in comparison,” Sirius said. 

Elodie looked over at him instead of the same spot on the rug that she’d been staring at. He was vibrating in place where he stood, like the knowledge of what was going on at Hogwarts was too much for his body to hold without shaking with the immensity of it.

“How are you so calm?” he asked her. “I feel like I’ve just been hit with Avada and I’m stuck in that second before death.”

“I’m sorry,” Elodie said automatically. “I’m bothered, believe me. I think reading about something awful as a plot device is very different than living it-- I’ve known about Moody since I read it happening.” She stood up, planning to try to soothe him with a hug or something, but he backed away with his hands up.

“I honestly feel like I will come apart if you touch me. If  _ anything _ touches me,” Sirius said. “I might need to go running again. Being exhausted would at least make this awful feeling  _ different.” _

“Okay, but…” Elodie looked out the window quickly at Buckbeak. He was pulling on something at the ground, and she realized it was a small animal that the hippogriff was eating. She shook her head and blinked to erase that image, refocusing on Sirius, who was also shaking his head.

“No, I really mean anything. I couldn’t ride Buckbeak right now. He can sense distress, he saw me running,” Sirius told her. 

“I hate that you’re stuck just waiting for news. At least running helps?”

“This waiting is better than at Azkaban, if that’s what you mean,” Sirius reassured her. “Something useful is actually happening while I wait, this time.” He suddenly shook his whole body as if shrugging off the thoughts about Azkaban. “No, that’s not quite…” he said, then shifted down to Padfoot and shook himself again.

“That looks much more satisfying,” Elodie told him. “I suppose you want to be let out?”

Padfoot ran helter skelter over to the door, then ran back and forth in front of it until she’d walked over to open it. “No Buckbeak, you hear me?” she told him firmly.

Sirius licked her hand once, then jumped from the top of the stairs out onto the cold ground and immediately started running.

8888888888888888

Waiting was the absolute  _ worst. _

After tidying up the kitchen and then the living room the Muggle way, which didn’t waste nearly as much time as she’d hoped, Elodie went down to the potions lab and scrubbed the third cauldron by hand. After a half hour, she realized that the Muggle way wasn’t actually going to ever get it clean, so she used the magical cleansing spells that would and was finished with it in two minutes.

The next thing Elodie did was catalogue her potion supplies and try to decide if she had enough to make something that wouldn’t eat into her Wolfsbane ingredients. She had enough to make a cauldron of Pepper-Up, which she started on immediately. It had a two hour brewing time, which involved a lot of busywork during that time, so it turned out to be a perfect way to keep her busy. When she was done (including time spent cleaning up everything she’d dirtied in the process of making it), she headed back upstairs.

The sun was setting, and Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but Buckbeak was still there. Elodie decided to check Sirius’s room before she went to look to see if his motorcycle was missing, and she was happy when she did so to find that he was in the Pensieve. She left the door slightly cracked, just like it had been when she’d peeked inside.

As Elodie walked past Remus’s bedroom door, she wondered what was happening at Hogwarts. Surely he’d found the vial and spoken to Severus Snape by now? A quick  _ Tempus _ told her that it was five thirty in the evening. Just over three hours had passed since they’d gotten Ron’s owl at two thirty. Since Ron had told them he left class early, and Harry had written before about how their Thursday DADA class stretched from lunch to dinner, Elodie imagined that Harry and his classmates were finished with their class, or would be soon.

Would Remus send some sort of a message to them if they were in the process of unmasking the fake Alastor Moody? An owl might take about an hour and a half, but what about a Patronus? Did the Order members even know how to send messages via Patronus as early as the fourth book?

Elodie spent fifteen minutes searching her bookshelf for her copies of the  _ Harry Potter _ series before she realized what she was doing.

Just then, the tapping of an owl’s beak at the window distracted Elodie from laughing at herself.

“Well hel- _ lo, _ cinematic universe!” she said, walking over and letting it in by the front door. With shaking hands, she pulled the scroll from its leg, nearly forgetting to give it a conjured treat.

To her surprise it was not in Remus’s neat, even handwriting.

  
  


> Thursday, January 14, 1995
> 
> Sirius,
> 
> Professor Moody ended class early today by an hour. He was so angry with Harry that he gave him immediate detention, effective at the end of class! He had Harry by the arm as the rest of us left. I wanted to try to get detention too, but Harry mouthed ‘tell Sirius’ so that is what I came to do right away.
> 
> Harry told me he is afraid the liquid was Polyjuice potion. If it was, then whoever is pretending to be Professor Moody has got Harry! 
> 
> I’m going to find Ron and go straight to Professor McGonagall about this. I don’t know where they are going for detention, but I heard Professor Moody tell Harry they were ‘going for a long walk.’
> 
> Hermione Granger

 

The letter was addressed to Sirius, but she knew that he was busy with the Pensieve, and the owl probably had given up tapping at the window of his bedroom. Elodie didn’t know for sure what time of day Hogwarts served dinner, and whether there was a staging time period beforehand, but she doubted that Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s DADA class was any longer than four hours. Ron’s letter had come at two thirty, and she got the impression that he had left at around the beginning of the class. If owls took around an hour to an hour and a half to fly to Phoenix House from Hogwarts, then did that mean Harry had been alone with Barty Crouch, Jr. for around that long?

Elodie started to put on her shoes.

Sirius wouldn’t be able to go to Hogwarts. Remus was already there, but she had no way to contact him. She didn’t know how to cast a Patronus, much less send a message with one. Sirius might, but she doubted it, as it was an Order of the Phoenix thing, and their Christmas time meeting had ended up falling through thanks to Hogwarts needing to host most of the school’s population during the usually empty end of year holidays. She could possibly use the Floo to contact Albus, but she felt like it was possible that Remus had gone to speak to their friend about their concerns in the three hours he’d been gone. Talk wasn’t going to protect Harry Potter, though. And Elodie had a good idea where Crouch might take him-- the Forbidden Forest.

After she was done tying her shoes, Elodie went looking for Sirius. She hoped she wouldn’t have to pull him from whatever memory he was inside, but when she tapped on the door, Sirius answered her.

“I’ve just got another Owl from Hogwarts,” she told him, handing it over. It was frightening to watch his fury and fear rise as he read the few lines from Hermione. When they locked eyes after he was done, she knew what he was going to ask.

“You have to go and protect him,” Sirius said. His words were a command, but his eyes were practically begging. Elodie lifted her foot to show him that she’d already put on her shoes.

“I’m going. I’m hoping they’ve already got Harry somewhere safe, since Remus is there, but--”

“But that wouldn’t be very compelling reading, would it?” Sirius said darkly. 

Elodie stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm, but Sirius reached for that hand and used it to pull her up against him, where he held her tight in a brief hug. Then he pulled back to kiss her. Sirius buried his hands in her hair and took control, putting every ounce of his intensity in the way his lips slanted over hers. It was thrilling, and Elodie clung to him as closely as she could manage, her heart racing and soaring all at once. By the time they pulled away from each other, she felt like that had been the kind of desperate goodbye embrace that happened at a critical action scene.

Elodie hoped this didn’t count. She wanted to find Harry and get him away from his fake professor  _ before _ anything action-y happened.

She took a deep, fortifying breath and started toward the fireplace. By the time she was halfway across the room, though, doubt started to seep in.

“Argh! I want to go straight to where I think he is, but I don’t know if I can find my way from Hogsmeade, and I don’t want to start out in Albus’s office,” Elodie said in frustration. “It’s too bad I don’t have your Map!”

“You have me, though,” Sirius said. She looked over at him, and right as she did, his eyes lit up. “You have me,” he repeated, walking over to her. “I could Apparate you to the Shack and show you where the hidden passage is. It’s outside the wards, and you already know about the knothole to disable the Willow.”

Elodie bit her lip. His enthusiasm was infectious, but she was still worried. “You’re not too emotional about this to Apparate?”

“I’m  _ hopeful,” _ he promised her. “It’s a good feeling. I’ve been feeling useless ever since you told me about Harry’s fake professor. This, I can  _ do!” _

“All right then,” Elodie decided. “The longer we wait the more likely it is Harry will be by himself when Crouch runs out of potion in his system.”

“Like  _ that _ isn’t going to make me emotional?” Sirius said, teasing her.

“I’m a complete mess,” Elodie said, covering her face with her hands, only half joking.

Sirius came over and put his arms around her. “The complex heroes are the best ones, anyway,” he told her. The wrenching lurch of Apparition pulled them away before she could come up with a retort.

The Shrieking Shack was bigger than she expected. Sirius showed her where in the basement the hidden passage was, and explained what the knothole looked like, when she reached the end. With her wand lighting the way ahead, Elodie thanked Sirius and gave him a swift kiss before she started down the dimly-lit passage in front of her.

When Elodie came out from the passage under the Willow, the sky was completely dark. In a strange way, this made her feel far more exposed than if it had still been daylight. She felt like the castle windows that faced her could be lined with students wondering who and what was messing with the Whomping Willow, even though in actuality, the distance between them and where she was meant they probably couldn’t see a thing. The knothole was easily visible, which was a relief. She walked quite far from the Willow before she turned and scanned the grounds ahead of her.

“Well, it’s time to believe fully in the power of a cinematic universe,” Elodie told herself. She took a deep breath before she started walking toward the treeline in front of her. A dreadful feeling swept over her. She had come woefully unprepared and she worried she’d be completely incapable of finding Harry and Barty Crouch, Jr. before Harry was attacked. Elodie tried as best she could to push those thoughts away. Time and time again in the months since she’d arrived here, she’d found what she needed, walked in on exactly the right conversation, gotten interrupted right at the perfect time, and many other odd coincidences. To rely on the idea that this trend would continue couldn’t be the most ridiculous action she was taking on this day, could it?

Before simply walking between two trees and losing herself in the Forbidden Forest, Elodie looked around carefully. She found a path that wasn’t exactly ‘well worn,’ but it was at least something. The path seemed to wend its way back down away from the forest toward a bump on a hill in the distance, and something about the shape of it made Elodie wonder if it was Hagrid’s hut. If it was, there was a good chance that this path was a good idea to follow. Or it would be, if it continued to be a cohesive path to follow once it entered the woods. Holding her breath, with her wand lighting the way for her tentative steps forward, Elodie followed the path up to the edge of the forest.

The path wasn’t as obvious here, but it was obvious enough.

Something made her feel like she ought to hurry. Though she started walking a bit faster than she might ordinarily have wanted to, Elodie kept a close watch on where exactly she was placing her feet. Cinematic luck could go both ways, after all, and as a woman alone in a place literally named ‘Forbidden,’ Elodie had no intention of running and tripping on a tree root and adding herself to some sort of literary victims list.

There came a place along the path where the surrounding trees leaned so close that she had to lean over as well, holding her wand out barely a foot from the ground, to see her way through it. When she came out from the other side of that area, she heard voices.

One young voice, and an older, angry sounding one.

Elodie had to lean against a tree and hold a trembling hand to her chest. Bravery was one thing she knew she possessed, otherwise she wouldn’t be out here in the first place. Courage in the face of something genuinely dangerous was something entirely different, though, and she actually had to take a minute to realize that there was no internal switch to throw. Nothing felt different now that she knew for certain that she was going to have to walk over to a Death Eater and thwart whatever his plans might be.

In that moment, Elodie thought about what Sirius had screamed about in the Shrieking Shack. He had yelled that Peter should have risked his life instead of running, as his friends had done before him. She realized that she was taking on that mantle now-- Sirius was relying on her. Remus had gone on before her. And neither of them were concerned with keeping a book series interesting or readable. This was their  _ lives. _

Elodie raised her wand and started toward the voices.


	40. Stand Up and Stand Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie comes face to face with Barty Crouch, Jr. in a frightening confrontation. Later, Albus is forced to concede to the Minister of Magic despite strong misgivings.

“Sir, you really look unwell. I’m sure the hospital ward--” 

“The hospital ward won’t help, boy. What ails me isn’t fixable with medicine. Walk!” 

Harry sounded very worried, and Moody’s voice was shaky and angry. Elodie was close enough to be hexed if she surprised them, but if her plan went well, she would come across as a harmless minor functionary. Not for the first time that evening, Elodie wished she had drunk the Calming Draught that was the subject of so much joking in her household. That would probably have made it difficult to draw on her very real anxiety for the role she was about to play, however.

“Harry Potter! Oh, thank Merlin I was able to find you!” Elodie called out. She tried to draw on Percy Weasley’s prim tones for the Ministry official she was pretending to be.

“Who goes there?!” the harsh tones in Alastor Moody’s voice were intimidating to the extreme, even though she knew it wasn’t really him.

Elodie’s heart sank as she realized she hadn’t invented a fake name for her Ministry persona. It was too late to try to pick something and hope she’d remember it.

“Hello? I’m Assistant Merriman, Laurel Merriman. I work for the Regulation of Underage Magic Division at the Ministry,” Elodie said in as officious a voice she could manage under the circumstances. “I must say, I was starting to believe Headmaster Dumbledore had sent me out here with the express purpose of getting rid of me!”

Fake Moody hadn’t lowered his wand, but it was shaking quite a bit. “You’re American,” he accused, his voice thick with suspicion.

“Excuse me, Miss, but this is a very dangerous--” Harry’s voice faltered as he got a good look at her face. Elodie didn’t let her expression change, but she felt her heart sink. If she’d used her real name, it would have helped Harry recognize her,  _ and _ it would have helped him understand the danger they were in. Now, everything depended on the way they played off his reaction.

“What’s dangerous, young man, is your insistence on using magic in unauthorized ways!” Elodie said, marching over closer to Harry and positioning herself between him and his ‘Professor.’ “During an outing off of Hogwarts grounds this past December, you used magic three separate times. You then ignored our request for further information, which was delivered by owl to you more than a week ago!”

As she spoke, Elodie had started to shake her finger at Harry, with her wand hand held at her side in what she hoped looked like a casual manner. It wasn’t casual, however. Her wand was pointed at Bartemius Crouch, Jr., and with every finger wag, Elodie was herding Harry away from the man, farther down the path towards the way they had come.

“One of them was to keep my best friend from falling off of a hippogriff in mid-air!” Harry protested angrily. 

“Was there no adult witch or wizard with you to prevent such a catastrophe?” Elodie asked Harry incredulously. “This is quite serious. We’re going to need your immediate--”

_ “Stop!” _ Moody’s deep baritone sounded oddly fractured, almost like there were two voices overlaid. 

Elodie held her wand tightly in her hand as she whirled around to face the disguised Death Eater. He looked truly frightful. His hands were shaking, and every so often his whole body would convulse. Even though she knew he must be going through at least  _ some _ pain, she was genuinely afraid of how unpredictable he might be. She couldn’t risk making an assumption that his powers were in any way diminished.

“You are, I assume, this young man’s professor? Now that I have him under my control, you are dismissed,” Elodie said, whirling around and walking quickly to where Harry was, farther ahead of her on the path. Her heart was pounding so strongly that she could hear it, but in the next second, she realized that all of her senses were heightened, because she heard Moody’s voice behind her mumble something that sounded like a spell. She spun around and cast  _ Protego _ as quickly as she could, and sure enough, the red light of a spell bounced off of her shield.

“You  _ dare _ attack a Ministry official?” Elodie asked, putting all of her terror into her affronted tone of voice.

“You are no Ministry official,” the hulking, agitated man in front of her declared. He raised his wand as if to cast again, and Elodie was tempted to try to disarm him. However, she doubted it would land, and then he could claim she attacked  _ him. _

“Unbelievable!” Elodie shouted. “First, my letters are ignored by the so-called  _ Boy Who Lived, _ who thinks he’s above the law. Then my visit to Hogwarts goes unnoticed until I demanded satisfaction from the headmaster of this institution, who then sends me out in the middle of a blasted  _ forest _ to be attacked by one of his professors!” 

She tried to draw on the persona of every middle-aged woman who had ever had minor trouble at a retail institution and was unduly outraged about it. After pausing to take a breath, Elodie added the icing on the cake.

“I think all of you are  _ protecting _ this boy because of who he is! You’re all complicit!” she screamed. Elodie threw her hands up in disgust and stomped off toward Harry. “And you! You move faster! We’ve wasted enough time already!”

Behind her, she heard the Death Eater laughing in Alastor Moody’s voice. She prepared herself to cast another shield charm if necessary, but this time, he cast too quickly for her to detect him. The spell he used propelled him forward past Elodie and past Harry, placing him ahead of them on the path. Elodie reached out and pulled Harry to her by the back of his shirt and he nodded, wide-eyed, as she pushed him behind her.

“You almost had m-me con-v-vinced!” ‘Moody’ snarled, his anger amplified by the way his lips struggled to work properly in his fading form. It was as if he’d been living as Moody for so long that his flesh didn’t want to conform itself back to his actual body anymore. “B-but no one that p-pretentious would dress l-like  _ that!” _ His wand tip shuddered and wobbled with the rest of his body as he held it out in front of him.

Elodie almost,  _ almost _ took her eyes off of him to look down at her own clothes. Instead, she lifted her wand to hold it out in front of her, just as the disguised Death Eater was doing.

Her wand was shaking almost as much as his was.

“Harry, you’re authorized to pull out your wand to defend yourself,” she said.

“L-look at you,” Alastor Moody’s shaky voice said. “You can’t even s-stand up straight!”

Elodie kept her gaze steady and unwavering. “Neither can you,” she pointed out. “I’m in fear for my life. What’s  _ your _ excuse?”

As if in reply, the figure in front of her doubled over and groaned. If he had been anywhere else but on the path that led to safety, Elodie would have left him, taken Harry, and  _ run, _ but somehow the convulsions didn’t stop the man from keeping his wand pointed at them, however much it wavered. She was not about to turn her back on him.

Harry’s hand grabbed at her upper arm as they watched the rest of Alastor Moody’s familiar, bulky form melt away to reveal a thin, angry looking younger man.

“It  _ was _ Polyjuice,” Harry said in wonder, behind her.

The clothes that had fit Moody’s body so well simply hung loose on the man who now wore them. He started to remove the outer layers of clothing, shrugging them off as though he were leaving a puddle of his fake identity at his feet. He shook his head and the strap that held Moody’s ‘mad eye’ fell like a necklace around his neck, and the eye itself landed in Crouch’s outstretched hand. He tossed it up in midair like a baseball and caught it before he dropped it into the middle of his shed clothes.

The night air was crisp and cold, but Bartemius Crouch, Jr., this half-mad wizard, seemed almost unaffected. He raised his wand, and she threw back her free hand to make sure that Harry remained behind her, but Crouch simply cast a glowing orb spell and lifted it to hover above and between them. The yellow glow didn’t seem to do much to illuminate the forest where they stood as much as it made the crazed man’s movements seem more exaggerated, as if he’d imbued the resulting shadows with animosity.

“Envigorating!” he said expansively, throwing up his bare arms to the sky in a mockery of the victory symbol. The black-green of something on his left forearm seemed to suck in the magical light from the spell. It was probably the returning Dark Mark, Elodie realized with a sucked in breath. Crouch didn’t walk closer, but he leaned over as if trying to see behind Elodie. “Was this what you wanted, Harry? You were right! How exciting for you!” he said enthusiastically.

“It’s time we walk back to the castle,” Elodie said calmly.

“Are you still pretending? How  _ tiresome,” _ Crouch said in his odd ebullient manner. “The thing is,  _ we _ can’t walk back to the castle, because  _ you _ can’t be allowed to remember this happened.” He said this while leaning forward as if he were telling her a secret, which, Elodie supposed, would technically be true.

“You’re not going to hurt Harry,” she said, knowing he would use this opportunity to mock her for implying otherwise. She was right. Crouch immediately launched into a light-hearted sounding tirade of insults, but she tuned him out, trying to think of what to do.

Harry could cast a Patronus. Could he possibly cast one in this situation? Could she keep the manic Death Eater busy long enough to allow Harry to conjure and then  _ speak directions to _ a Patronus? There were too many variables. Suddenly Elodie saw Crouch’s expression change, and without really hearing what he was saying, she cast  _ Protego. _

“Down!” she yelled to Harry, in case the shield charm wouldn’t protect him by virtue of being behind her. Harry had cast his own  _ Protego, _ however, and she flashed him a look of pride.

“A pity,” Crouch said, shaking his head. “This would have been easier if you were still not quite paying attention.” 

After saying this, his demeanor completely changed. He looked laser-focused, now, and there was a vicious sneer on his face that showed how he really felt about them. Then, Crouch lifted his wand, opened his mouth and said one of the most frightening words Elodie had ever heard.

_ “Crucio!” _

_ This is what being paralyzed by fear feels like, _ Elodie thought to herself as time slowed down and she watched the spell flying toward her. She knew there wasn’t any way to prepare herself, and that she should have tried to cast a shield spell. She felt, behind her, that Harry had started to try; he’d spoken the word  _ Protego, _ but his wand movement had been hampered by their physical closeness. His wand tip got caught on the hood of her coat, which was hanging down behind her.

_ “Pugna Ineunt! _ Run, Harry!”

Elodie heard the second voice, a familiar voice, and saw as, at the very last second, a second spell came flying impossibly faster than the Unforgivable spell, directly toward her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry start to run toward the source of that spell, and then both spells hit her, the yellow light from the unfamiliar one’s energy so strong and bright that she was dazzled. 

The pain was short but excruciating, just as she would have expected. It was as if the  _ Crucio’s  _ magic had been momentarily absorbed by her body only to be leeched away by the second spell. Right after the blessed feeling of the pain went away, the odd halo that surrounded her flashed orange, and she was reminded of a solar flare. Elodie had fallen to the ground when the  _ Crucio _ had hit, and she lifted her hand in the air and watched as the orange energy seemed to be expelled from her body and pushed away to dissipate in the air. A few seconds later, the yellow flickering glow also faded. Elodie knew that crucial things around her were happening, and while she was definitely protected by someone-- and she was grateful for it --she still felt like her duty was to Harry first. So she started trying to struggle to her feet, and though it took a few tries, she managed it.

Crouch was lying flat and frozen stiff on the forest floor with hugely thick ropes coiled around him from his ankles to his upper arms. A black square of something was clamped overtop of his mouth. Standing over him was a tall man dressed in black robes, his black hair hanging limp almost over his eyes as he pointed his wand at the Death Eater. Behind him was Harry, and in front of Harry was Remus. Remus was half-kneeling in front of him with both hands on Harry’s shoulders, and he seemed to be speaking earnestly and gently to the young man.

Elodie was profoundly grateful that somehow the two wizards who had come to rescue them had been able to overcome their storied animosity in enough time to spare further pain.

As for pain, Elodie’s joints ached, and she had a mental image of the muck of  _ Crucio _ magic seeping into her joints before being imperfectly flushed away by the spell.

“Elodie!” Remus came toward her, Harry in tow. “Can you walk? Are you all right?” He reached out for her hand to help her keep her footing as they started down the path, passing the place where Severus Snape (it  _ had _ to be) was levitating the frozen and bound Crouch, Jr.

“I will be, I think?” she answered his second question first. “And, I think I can walk. I’m sorry, my brain is very unfocused right now. I just want to get back to a  _ building,  _ preferably without any Death Eaters.”

As soon as she said this, Elodie realized that there wasn’t one, but  _ two _ Death Eaters following them as they walked toward Hogwarts. She wasn’t meant to know this, of course, but that didn’t help her feel less guilty for having said that. Sirius knew about Severus Snape’s role as a spy for both Voldemort and Dumbledore because she’d told him about it, but she doubted that Remus knew.

Elodie was too busy watching where she was stepping to ask Remus about his quest for the vial and how it turned out, but once they stepped away from the treeline and onto the lawn, she looked over at Remus. He had a grave expression on his face, and she saw him reach out every so often toward Harry, who was walking in front of them both. 

“Miss Merriman?” Harry said, slowing his pace to walk between her and Remus. “I know you don’t actually work for the Ministry, but just to be sure: did you get any notices that I used unauthorized magic?”

He looked so concerned that Elodie couldn’t help but ask a question. “Why? Did you actually have to use magic to keep Ron from falling off of Buckbeak?”

Remus looked over at her sharply, and then he frowned as both Elodie and Harry laughed. “What did I miss?”

Elodie looked at Harry, who had turned to look at her at the same time. She nudged his shoulder with her elbow. “You want to go first, or should I?”

“How about we keep from wasting breath and go into the story only once we have all arrived safely at the Headmaster’s Office?” Severus Snape said from behind them. He sounded a lot like the movie version, with a resonant, rich timbre to his voice, not that she expected to ever hear anything pleasant from him.

“Hermione owled the house, after your class was over, Harry,” Elodie said, throwing a quick look behind her to see if Snape was going to object. “Remus was already here--”

“Hounding me to perform a mundane spell without being forthcoming about the details. Details which, as it turned out, were vital to certain  _ other _ events,” Snape interrupted in a snide voice, gesturing to the supine form of the Death Eater levitated beside him.

“There was no way we could have known the man would cut class short in order to take Harry into the Forest, Severus,” Remus said in a tired-sounding voice. Elodie wondered how much grief Snape gave him in his quest to discover what the flask contents were. It sounded like it was quite a lot.

“It was definitely Polyjuice Potion,” Harry said as they climbed the stairs at the entrance to Hogwarts.

“Obviously,” Snape said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Elodie couldn’t help herself.

“You act like the child should be  _ used _ to being verbally insulted by a Death Eater while under a professor’s care,” she said to Snape as she held the door for the Potions professor and his levitated body.

She hadn’t underestimated him as much as she’d gotten frustrated and mouthed off, but either way led to the same result: Severus Snape looming in the doorway to Hogwarts, a suspicious, jet black eyebrow raised ever so elegantly as he looked down at her.

“Was there something?” she said defiantly, hating the way she had to look so far up to meet his gaze.

“Hopefully not,” he said flatly. He turned away from her and continued through the doorway, and she felt like he was only a few flourishes of his robes away from true, aching melodrama. It made her want to laugh, but she didn’t need his baleful gaze on her any more than it already had been, so she settled for rolling her eyes.

Elodie was mid-roll when she shut the door and turned to follow the rest of their group. That’s when she saw Remus looking at her. He looked like he was trying to hold back laughter, and she widened her eyes and mouthed ‘that guy!’ to him. Remus had to cover his mouth with his hand and shoot her a cross look before he turned his back on her and jogged a bit to catch up to Harry.

To her great relief, Snape did not turn to look at either of them before they reached the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office. It stood open.

“Albus?” Remus called, starting up the stairs.

“Good, excellent! Please, all of you come up and join us!” Albus’s voice sounded from inside the office.

“A  _ welcoming _ party,” Snape muttered. Elodie only heard him because she had to sidle past him and Crouch to precede them on the stairs. 

He wasn’t wrong, though. Inside waiting for the five of them was Albus and two strangers that Elodie didn’t recognize. Neither of them looked like Aurors, which made her a bit concerned, given that one of them was a grey-haired man in a very fine suit. 

“Harry, I am so very pleased to see that you are all right,” Albus said, walking over and resting a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Remus told me about your suspicions. I will need to send you to bed before we are finished here, but I want you to stay for the first part.”

Remus walked over from where he’d been standing beside Harry and went to her. He leaned his head down and said, quietly, “Thank you so much for what you did today.”

“Yes, Severus, please leave him bound for the moment,” Albus said, louder than whatever he had been saying to Harry. “Elodie, Remus, please sit?”

There was an arc of six chairs set up in front of Albus’s desk, in two clusters of three. When Elodie walked over with Harry to stand next to the leftmost chairs, Snape lifted his wand and levitated Crouch, Jr. over to the farthest chair to the right, where he settled uneasily. Remus sat on the other side of Harry, and the two strangers looked uncomfortable at the idea of sitting at the same level as the rest of them. The younger, nervous-looking man sat one seat away from Snape and immediately crossed one leg over the other, bouncing his hanging foot in a jittery rhythm.

“I asked Minister Fudge to be here, though I had expected a few Aurors… Cornelius?” Albus said, folding his hands at his desk and looking down at the assembled group. Elodie felt like the power disparity shown in the height difference was absolutely intentional.

“Yes, well. I felt it necessary to see things for myself before calling in any more prying eyes, you see,” the well-dressed man said. He held his hands in front of him as if he itched for to be a podium for him to be standing at instead of empty air. “Do go on, it’s no great matter to call for some later in this, err, tribunal, as it were.”

Elodie thought she caught Snape rolling his eyes, but she wasn’t quite sure. Beside her, Harry started bouncing his own leg, throwing looks over toward the bound and still petrified form of Barty Crouch, Jr. A movement caught her attention, and she turned her head farther to see that Remus had draped his left arm across the back of Harry’s chair. She was touched, and this was the expression on her face when he turned to look in her direction. Elodie flicked her eyes toward his arm and smiled more, and Remus nodded a tiny bit before directing his eyes back to Albus.

Albus and Fudge had been politely bickering about whether Aurors were warranted, but Fudge appeared to be winning out. 

“Excuse me, sir? Is the real Professor Moody all right?” Harry asked, suddenly. 

“Good boy,” Remus whispered at the same time that Albus started talking.

“Yes, yes you are quite right, Harry. That is the part of the story you four don’t know about, isn’t it?” Albus asked rhetorically. He stood up and walked around his desk to lean against it while he spoke, gesturing with his hands as he did so. “This afternoon was unusually busy with Gryffindors, I must say. Unusually so. Besides the customary  _ disciplinary _ missions, I had a visit from your former Professor Lupin here to tell me about the conclusions of Professor Snape’s testing of a vial of unknown liquid. This, he told me, you had obtained from a flask belonging to a  _ Professor.” _

Albus looked over at Harry, then, and his gaze was quite piercing, even from many feet away. Harry started to squirm, despite the fact that almost everyone in the room knew that the results from that test had shown something quite worrisome and very shocking. The staring continued for a good ten seconds before Albus continued speaking, and Elodie had the strangest notion that this was her friend’s unique way of punishing Harry for his transgression of stealing the vial in the first place. She suspected Albus would probably never seek to talk to Harry about it again.

“Given that the results were Polyjuice potion, I found them to be extremely disturbing. While speaking to Lupin, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger requested to speak with me. They were both quite distressed, and their message was that their class had been let early, and you, Harry, were in immediate detention with the owner of the flask of Polyjuice potion.”

“Oh dear!” the Minister of Magic exclaimed.

“Exactly,” Albus nodded sagely. “I sent Professor Lupin over to Moody’s classroom immediately, but--  and this is my crucial misstep --I instructed him to remain outside.”

“I am sorry that I was not able to sense the emptiness of the room,” Remus broke in. His voice sounded strong and regretful, and Elodie instantly understood the undercurrent of what he was saying: if this had been a full moon week, Remus would have had additional senses to draw on.

“I don’t think anyone in this room blames you,” Albus said. A huff sounded from Snape’s end of the room.

“But of course you wouldn’t wish to agitate the impostor!” Fudge interjected with enthusiasm.

“Just so,” Albus said, inclining his head. “It remained my duty to search the man’s quarters and see what I could discover. Alastor Moody has many strange and wondrous possessions, and one of the most unique is his chest. It was in this chest that I discovered the real Alastor Moody.”

“How  _ horrible!” _ Fudge cried.

Elodie felt like he was putting on some sort of a show of distress, and it was profoundly irritating, given how genuinely tragic the tale was in the first place.

“Is he here in the hospital ward, or has he been moved to St. Mungo’s?” Elodie asked, trying to turn the attention away from his show of distress and back onto the fate of the real Moody.

“You there! You aren’t a member of the  _ press, _ are you?” Fudge asked. He sounded agitated, and Elodie shrank back in her seat at the look of deep concern on his face. Remus’s hand had been hanging between Harry’s chair and hers, and now he stretched it over to the back of her chair, squeezing her shoulder with his thumb reassuringly.

“Miss Merriman is my friend, and her role in this is quite important, despite the fact that she is not a journalist,” Albus said. His voice had gotten quieter in the face of the discordant tones in the group. It commanded their attention. “Alastor is recuperating in the hospital ward. He had been subjected to the  _ Imperius _ curse repeatedly in order to provide information to his captor. He was malnourished and miserable, but he should be able to bounce back. He’s having a much-deserved rest in the softest, most luxurious bed I could conjure for him.”

“However did you manage to make him sleep!” Fudge asked. This time, his tone was wry and amused. Elodie suspected that was his typical tone when he wasn’t ‘on’ as a politician.

“Dreamless Sleep. He’s powerfully angry, and rightly so, but this part is for us to proceed with, without his thirst for vengeance muddying the waters, so to speak,” Albus said. “And with that, we must say good night to our young charge. Harry, my boy, it is time for you to sleep. You needn’t be told that this is quite an important secret to keep, I hope?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Professor Moody wasn’t himself today, sir. His visit to the hospital ward proves it.”

Harry stood, and so did Remus. “I’d be happy to walk him to the tower, Albus,” he said.

“Thank you, Professor Lupin. I’m sure Elodie can fill you in on everything later.”

When Albus called Remus ‘Professor’ again, Elodie saw Remus make a face that was a cross between a wince and a smile, sort of an acceptance of something he wished wasn’t so. The title was probably painful, but it was also a sign of respect, she knew. The other thing Elodie noticed was the expression on Snape’s face when Albus said she could fill Remus in later on the details he was about to miss. Snape had scoffed, and she tried to tell herself it wasn’t about her, but it definitely felt like it. 

_ Severus Snape is probably miserable. His Dark Mark is clearly returning, he had to spend a whole year teaching alongside with a werewolf he hates,  _ and _ he was required to keep Remus’s secret! He has enough going on without you internalizing his every sigh! _

After Remus and Harry left the office, Elodie felt incredibly out of place. Besides the magically muted Barty Crouch Jr., there was no one else to testify to their conversation, and she keenly felt her lack of any sort of demonstrable credentials. Albus walked down from his raised desk and leaned against the low marble wall his desk stood on. He opened his arms as if to encompass the room.

“Harry is now safe. Alastor is recovering. Now, we need to deal with the aggressor.”

“Aggressor is rather a strong word, don’t you think?” Fudge said.

“He told me he was going to kill me before he did whatever he was planning to do with Harry!” Elodie said, standing up in outrage.

“He cast  _ Crucio _ on me!” Elodie shouted.

“I can attest to that,” Snape interjected.

Fudge turned toward Elodie and looked her up and down. “Yet you seem to be suffering no ill effects?”

“Are you  _ kidding me?” _ she said. Fudge didn’t stop talking over her, though.

“Albus, are you sure this wasn’t a test run for some sort of prank infiltration? I mean, how much damage could have been done in so short a time?”

Albus seemed to be profoundly irritated, and he kept his cool, but only just. “Before I address this more specifically, I have to ask: how long do you think this man has been disguised as Professor Moody?”

“A month? Surely not more than that!” Fudge said with the confidence only a politician could muster.

“Alastor told me he was attacked the night before the Hogwarts Express. He has not taught a day of class.”

“His memory has been altered. There’s no other explanation for it,” the Minister of Magic declared unequivocally.

“He allowed me to use Legillimency to look into his mind. There is no question that he is telling the truth. A Death Eater--”

“Come, now, Albus! Surely you cannot claim to know--”

“You try my patience, sir!” Albus thundered. 

A bit of the mask of patient disbelief seemed to slip, for Fudge, letting fear show in his eyes. He looked over at where Crouch lay frozen by magic and then he shook his head. 

“Why do you persist in this, Cornelius?” Albus said in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “You haven’t brought Aurors. You don’t want to believe he was here through the whole year, despite proof that he was. You say this was a  _ prank!”  _ At that word, Dumbledore’s voice grew stronger. “How can you claim not to fear that which frightens you so much you refuse to acknowledge its existence!”

Cornelius Fudge stared at Albus Dumbledore. Elodie watched as the look of affronted pride started to fade from his face, replaced with a mulish determination. Her eyes flicked over to Albus, who was also watching the Minister’s face. As Fudge’s face changed, so did Albus’s; a bleak disappointment was forming, and the desperation in it was more scary to Elodie than most of the evening had been.

“I must persist in maintaining the order of law. I hereby order you to release this criminal to  _ my  _ custody, whereupon I shall deliver him immediately to a cell within the Ministry for questioning!” Fudge said in a loud, declarative tone.

“Surely a pair of Aurors would be required for--” Albus started speaking in a reasonable tone, but he was cut off by a supercilious hand wave from Fudge.

“Nonsense! I worked for a time in Magical Law Enforcement, I know what I am doing!” Fudge said, emphasizing each word of the final phrase by punctuated finger pointing in Albus’s direction.

“You will, I hope, at last  _ notify--” _

“You there,” Fudge said, turning away from Albus and walking closer to where Severus Snape was seated. “Which spells have you used? I shall be wanting to refresh them shortly. Can’t have this man attacking the Ministry, now can we? Ha, ha, as if he would. He’s done his ill deed, I daresay.”

Elodie walked over to Albus. He started to speak, but didn’t turn to face her. “Before you arrived, even before we were certain Harry was safe, that man was talking about ‘containment.’ He has no intention of revealing the true extent of what has happened here during these past months.” Albus finally looked over at her, and she saw a deep concern on his face. “I am not sure that I can stop him.”

“You can’t write a letter to someone who works for the Aurors? Or, barring that, even the Minister of Magic can’t simply place someone in Azkaban without any indication as to why, can he?” Elodie asked, keeping her voice as quiet as she could as she and Albus watched Fudge confer with the nervous looking official he’d brought with him to Hogwarts.

“He can. Not only is Barty Crouch, Jr. an Azkaban escapee, but there were sweeping changes made to keep the level of fear down after the defeat following Harry’s parents’ death,” Albus said. “There were those that warned that such changes could be mis-used in the future by misguided, ill-intentioned, or even frightened leaders.”

“No one listened to you then, did they?” Elodie asked, shaking her head knowingly.

“I’m sorry to say that they did, Elodie. They listened to me and shouted down those that warned caution. I only have myself to blame, in this moment.” Albus shut his eyes for a long moment, and then turned to walk back to his desk.

“But, the Aurors?” Elodie asked, shocked by what she’d heard and unwilling to give up so easily. Fudge and his assistant could hear her, and they both shot her unhappy looks. She didn’t have to look over to wherever Severus Snape was to know he would be doing the same.

“My contact in the Auror division was, alas, Alastor Moody himself,” Albus said. “He will be too busy catching up to the classwork he has supposedly been teaching these past months to do much to interfere in his own clandestine case against Mr. Crouch, I imagine.”

Minister Fudge looked inordinately pleased to hear this. “This will all work out for the best, Albus. You’ll see. Do you have him, Featherstone?” he said to his assistant. In response, the other man lifted his wand tip, and the prone figure of Barty Crouch, Jr. floated higher.

Elodie felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched this display. These two men were the ones in the room with the least amount of knowledge of what their captive was capable of, much less what he was planning. Yet she, with the most knowledge, had the least amount of power to prevent their leaving with him.

She stood still as the men swept past her, their charge levitating along behind them. Neither man had even considered that they should keep such a dangerous fugitive between them, just in case! Elodie gasped in fear when Crouch’s body levitated past her and the man himself glared at her, having clearly regained the use of his eye muscles.

“Don’t bother trying to tell them, they won’t care,” Snape’s voice said from behind her.

“‘Don’t bother?!’ Whose side are you on!” Elodie exclaimed in frustration. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she realized what kind of a question that was to ask of  _ this _ person in particular.

“The  _ correct _ side, of course,” Snape said derisively. He turned away from her to look towards Albus, and the two of them traded looks that were far beyond Elodie’s comprehension. Then, Snape pushed past her (even though he could have walked  _ around _ her, as she realized once he’d gone) and sped down the stairs as if eager to be rid of Elodie and the rest of the business that had just transpired in the Headmaster’s Office.

Men’s voices floated up the curved stairs a few seconds later, and then Remus walked up the staircase and into the room. He had a sour expression on his face, and Elodie knew exactly who had put it there.

“If the United Kingdom lacks qualified Potions workers anytime in the next ten years, I can tell you pretty reliably what the reason for  _ that _ is,” Elodie said out loud to no one in particular.

“Remus, thank you for everything you did this evening. And you, Elodie--I wish to speak to you both in depth, but I think a good night’s sleep would do both of you worlds of good,” Albus said. “I hardly need tell you that Alastor will be wanting to speak with you as well. Will you return sometime before lunch, tomorrow? Ten thirty? Eleven?”

“I…” Elodie was at a loss for words.  _ Rescuing _ Moody by way of hinting broadly that there was something wrong with Harry Potter’s DADA professor was one thing. Actually coming face to face with the man himself was, somehow, another.

“I’m certain that won’t be much of a problem, Albus,” Remus said, placing a gentle hand at the small of Elodie’s back and leading her over to the fireplace. “Despite our near-immediate intervention, Elodie did suffer an attack. She’ll be back to her usual self tomorrow, I imagine.”

“You’re trying to rile me up by acting like I get riled up easily,” Elodie said to Remus with a frown. “That is very unfair because I will be acting predictably whether I get upset or not!”

“As I said,” Remus said, again to Albus. He held out the pot of Floo powder for Elodie and she considered not taking any. That would probably make Remus even  _ more _ smug, though, and at least if she took some she could go home and curl up on the couch.

“Tomorrow is fine,” she said in a stiff voice. “I’m sure an extra twelve hours will help me deal with the prospect of being hit with an Unforgivable by an actual Death Eater and interrogated by Alastor Freaking Moody in the same twenty-four hour period!”

Then, Elodie grabbed her Floo powder and tossed it in, saying “Phoenix House” loudly and clearly. She hopped into the fireplace before Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore had gotten the looks of chagrin wiped off of their faces.

 


	41. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Elodie tell Sirius what happened at Hogwarts. After sharing a bed for the night, Sirius and Elodie share the bed for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who wishes to skip the smut can stop at the line break of 88888s and then search for the phrase 'worth the wait' and read the last few sentences.

 

Sirius was waiting to catch her when she spun out of the fireplace. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit, especially not when they had to stagger back when Remus came through a few minutes later.

“What if it had been Remus who came through first?” Elodie asked, once Sirius had let go of her and pulled her over to the couch. She sat in her favorite space, and Sirius sat very close, with the hand nearest to him firmly claimed by both of his, over in his own lap.

“We would have moved aside for you to come through the fireplace,” Remus told her, acting like he was affronted by any accusation that he might not have. “We’re not animals, we have  _ some _ courtesy!”

“Speak for yourself, Moony,” Sirius said. “Hello, Animagus here!”

“Now, now, I’m sure not  _ all _ of your courtesy has been trauma’d out of you yet,” Elodie told him comfortingly.

“Anyone else for tea?” Remus asked them. “It’s late and I’m knackered, but I’m too anxious to sleep right away.” They both nodded.

“Albus sent me a message a little more than an hour ago telling me that Harry was safe, Moody had been held captive but is now recovering, and he’d called Aurors to deal with the Death Eater that had been pretending to be Moody,” Sirius told her. “I assume that’s quite an understatement?”

Elodie thought about those frozen seconds as she’d stood and waited for the  _ Crucio _ to hit. The look on Crouch’s face had been simply terrifying. She scooted over to rest her head on Sirius’s chest. He immediately folded his arms around her and she drank in the message from all of her senses:  _ safe. _

“Did he attack you? I don’t need to hear everything right now, I don’t want to make you go through it to remember, but--”

“He cast… yes, he attacked me,” Elodie said. She wanted to tell Sirius what happened, but she needed his arms around her in this moment. 

“Harry?”

“No, and he wasn’t reverted back to his own body until after I got there and started trying to take Harry away from him,” she said, shaking her head against the memories. Sirius’s hand rubbed a path of comfort up from her back and into her hair, sliding his hand repetitively over and through it.

“Harry seems to be mostly unaffected by the potential of what could have happened to him,” Remus said, coming in from the kitchen. He stood a few paces into the living room, his hands in his pockets, his expression grave. “I talked to him on the way from Albus’s office to the Gryffindor tower. “He’s glad he was right about Moody, more than anything else.” An amused but regretful sort of smile transformed the dour expression on Remus’s face to something happier.

“So if  _ that’s _ his takeaway, you did well?” Sirius guessed.

“Precisely,” Remus nodded. “Elodie did well, I should say. Severus and I showed up in time to mitigate and contain.”

_ “Snape _ was with you in the forest?” Sirius asked incredulously. From her snuggled up position on his chest, Elodie felt the way his whole body tensed up at the mention of Snape’s name.

“He was. After we reported the results of his testing on Harry’s stolen vial, Albus told us what Ron and Hermione had told him-- that class had been dismissed early, and ‘Moody’ had Harry in the classroom for detention. Albus sent me to stand by the door to the DADA classroom but not to disturb them, for fear of setting off more anger from whoever was disguising himself,” Remus said. Elodie could hear the deep regret in his voice even before he revealed the source of it. “Albus sent for Ministry reinforcements, Severus went to finish the last class before dinner, and that was when he found out from one of those students that they had seen Professor Moody and Harry Potter walking toward the Forbidden Forest.”

“No one could blame you for not realizing the classroom was empty, Remus,” Elodie said, sitting up so her tone of voice couldn’t be mistaken thanks to being muffled against Sirius’s chest.

“If it had just been two or three days from now--”

“I love that you can use your condition as an advantage like that, but this just didn’t work out that way, and blaming yourself for that is not logical!” Elodie pushed back. “Besides, whatever you cast on me seems to have literally expelled the  _ Crucio  _ from my system.”

As she had expected it might, Sirius’s reaction to hearing this was explosive.

“The Death Eater cast an Unforgivable on you?! Are you all right?” He took her face in his hands, his anxiety and anger making his movements rough. Sirius looked her in her eyes with a searching, desperate look, as if he could see and excise her trauma just by finding its reflection in her eyes.

Elodie lifted both of her hands to rest them gently against Sirius’s. “I want you to hear me on this: I am just fine, and I was affected for less than a minute, okay?”

_ “Crucio,  _ though,” Sirius said brokenly.

“Remus, what was the translation of the spell you used on me?” Elodie said, carefully turning her face away from Sirius to look at Remus, and thus indicating to her boyfriend that it was time to release his grip. He got the message, and after he moved his hands away, she reached over and grabbed one of his hands with hers.

“The words separately mean something different when you put them together, but ‘pugna’ means strife or a battle. ‘Ineunt’ means to lift out or repel. The spell is one I created in my attempt to follow Albus’s instructions to look for spells that can help us against the Death Eaters and Voldemort,” Remus said from his chair opposite her. He looked both proud and a bit embarrassed. “I haven’t told him what happened yet, because I wanted to find out from you what exactly you felt when it hit you. The spell as worded and intended was meant to expel or repulse a harmful spell’s intent.”

“That’s exactly how it felt. That’s honestly genius, Remus-- it felt like it sank into my body and flushed out everything awful about the  _ Crucio. _ It might have a different reaction if it doesn’t hit its intended target almost at the same time as the harmful spell, though. Not to prevaricate, because it was amazing, but--”

“No, I understand what you’re getting at,” Remus said. “When I came up with it, I was thinking more along the lines of spells that stimulate an immune response, more of a hex reverser, honestly. To find out that it managed to strip away the pain for you is fantastic. That’s far beyond what I hoped, and I’m very glad.”

“I should tell you that I feel a few twinges yet, but most of them are in my joints,” Elodie told Remus.

“Are you trying to make me feel better by explaining that it wasn’t perfect, Elodie?” Remus accused her.

She hung her head in mock shame. “Yes. I’m also trying to be accurate about its effects, though!”

“You’re forgiven,” Remus said. “Casting  _ Pugna Ineunt _ on you was my Calloway’s Venture. I’m glad it worked.”

“Calloway’s Venture? Quidditch play?” she asked, catching Remus’s clever subject change and running with it.

“It’s not repeatable,” Sirius said firmly. “Zip it, Moony, I’m not going to argue this again, not when you’re trying to change the subject on me!” He turned to Elodie again. “Fabian Calloway was a Beater who managed to get a once in a lifetime shot. He hit the Bludger into the Quaffle which knocked the Snitch out of reach of the other team’s Seeker. It’s a figure of speech.”

“Ohh. A Hail Mary.” Elodie sat up and leaned her head down, gathering all of her hair together into a ponytail and pulling it through the hair tie twice before letting half of it stay caught. 

“So  _ that’s _ how you do that with your hair,” Sirius said, reaching out and rubbing at her now bare neck with his thumb. Elodie shivered. It felt really good.

“I can’t believe that I’m even sitting here talking about Quidditch and my hair,” she said, shaking her head. “Was it like this in the first war? Just, out of the blue you’re casting spells to save your own life or someone else’s, and an hour later you’re sitting waiting for the kettle like it’s any other evening?”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t heard it yet, which is odd,” Remus said.

“Yes,” Sirius said. Elodie looked over at him, and he slid his hand down her back and pulled away, pushing his own hair out of his eyes. “It’s exactly like this. Just with more death.”

“Oh no!” Elodie leaned over and pulled his face down to kiss her. She was mindful of Remus being in and out of the room, but couldn’t let such a comment pass without trying to comfort him at least a little. There was still some things she wanted to ask Remus, so chasing him away wasn’t in her plan for the evening, at least not yet.

A whistle that told them that the kettle had been successfully warmed pulled Elodie and Sirius away from each other.

“I stayed in there and watched it this time,” Remus said tiredly. “I wouldn’t trust me not to put salt in yours though, so I’ll let you get it yourself.”

Elodie stood up and walked over to where Remus was standing looking a bit lost and holding his cup beside his chair. She moved the book that he’d laid over the place he usually set it down. He laughed ruefully.

“Thanks. I might have stood here for another five minutes trying to figure out what was stopping me from sitting down. My routine is all askew, and it’s not like I didn’t have a full night’s sleep!”

“I feel like stress draws our energy reserves down like crazy. It can mimic sleep deprivation in that way, or at least, I always thought so,” Elodie told him.

“You two are always using too many words. Remus: sit!” Sirius said, coming out of the kitchen with his tea cup following behind him on his conjured tile.

Remus sat.

Elodie smiled fondly and walked into the kitchen. When she walked over to the part of the counter where the kettle sat, her view of her housemates was obscured, and she realized this was the first time since her encounter with Crouch that she had been by herself. She set down the tea cup she’d just picked up, and covered her face with her hands. The twinges in her elbows reminded her exactly what she’d just been through, and Elodie forced herself to take some deep breaths. 

When it came to living in this universe, Elodie sometimes felt like she was a bird on the surface of the water, a swan-- or, when she felt stupid, a duck. Making Wolfsbane or successfully casting an everyday spell without even thinking about it felt like flying. Facing a Death Eater threatening the lives of herself and  _ Harry Freaking Potter _ felt like diving deep into the water below her feet. She didn’t belong down there, she wasn’t sure how long she could handle it, and she certainly wasn’t equipped with the tools to ensure her long-term survival.

“One cup of tea at a time,” Elodie said out loud to herself. 

In the living room, Remus was sitting at the edge of his seat, his cup in one hand as he gestured with the other. “It was only that Albus basically ordered him to go with me. Albus knew he wouldn’t want to argue about our suitability as colleagues,  _ and _ he knew Severus would complain if anyone else was told to accompany him into the forest!” Remus leaned back with an expression of deep admiration on his face. “Dumbledore’s ability to use his knowledge of people against them is honestly breathtaking. I didn’t even fully realize the extent of what he’d done until just now, explaining it to you.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘manipulate,’” Sirius said, a trifle caustically.

“Fine, fine, but you know what I mean,” Remus said, waving a dismissive hand. “We actually found them because he shot off some sort of spell a few minutes before the Unforgivable.”

“I don’t know what it was. I deflected it,” Elodie said. “That was when he stopped playing along.”

“Playing along?” Sirius asked.

“I pretended to be from the Ministry, frustrated at all of the obstacles being put in front of my taking Harry away to be questioned,” Elodie told him. She was interrupted before she could explain to Sirius any further, because Remus stood, suddenly.

“I can’t stay awake anymore, I just picked up my book instead of my tea cup,” he announced. “Good night.” 

She could tell he was out of it, because less than a minute after Remus walked away toward his room, his bedroom door swung wide open, making the squeaking sound he hated so much.

“Oh, shut up,” Remus said to his door before slamming it.

“I don’t have the heart to tell him he never fixes it because he only sets that off when he’s completely distracted by something. And then we all forget until the next time,” Elodie said, wincing in sympathy with Remus’s frustration.

“Speaking of ‘out of it,’ sleep with me tonight,” Sirius said casually.

Warmth pooled in Elodie’s gut. She’d wondered whether he had deliberately avoided pushing for that, since he always seemed to come up with a reason to go to bed at different times from her. Elodie had told herself she was imagining things, and it was still quite early on in their relationship, so she hadn’t said anything.

“I would like that, but I need to be very honest here,” she said, slumping back onto the couch. “I’m very tired and emotionally overwrought. I need to sleep sleep.”

“As opposed to what? Sex sleep? That’s illegal, I think?” Sirius said with a bit of a smile. He stood up and turned toward her. “Stay there, I’ll go get your things. And don’t worry. I just need you with me, safe. Sleeping beside you is enough.”

Sirius jogged into the kitchen before she could respond to  _ that. _ She hadn’t thought about the prospect of sleeping alone, but imagining herself downstairs with many rooms between herself and Sirius made her shiver. Elodie stood up and walked to Sirius’s bedroom, pushing the door open and smiling when she saw just how rumpled his bedclothes were. She walked over and started to tug on the visible sheet, meaning to re-tuck the fitted corners.

“Wait, don’t!” Sirius said, coming into the room with an array of blankets and pillows floating behind him.

Elodie backed away from the bed and held her hands up in front of her chest.

“Sorry, I actually wanted to tell you--” he walked in and made a reverse fishing cast gesture with his arm, and all of her pillows and blankets flew over onto his bed in a big pile. He walked over and cast a spell she didn’t recognize.

“Sticky sheets?” she suggested archly. He gave her a heated look, but shook his head.

“Fur. I spent a lot of today curled up on the bed.”

“I’m sorry to scare you,” she said, walking over and hugging him from behind. She rested her cheek against his back, and his hands covered hers where they were clasped over his stomach.

“I started out downstairs in your room, actually. I went down there, but couldn’t bring myself to put my paws all over your bed, so I curled up on your rug,” Sirius said. She made an encouraging, sympathetic kind of noise. “There was something stuck under it, under the edge of your bed,” he told her, patting her hands gently. 

She let go and he bent over the bed, searching with one hand in the blanket until he came away with something small. Sirius walked over and pulled her hand out, and set the item in her palm.

It was her charm bracelet.

“I looked all over for this!” Elodie pressed it to her heart.  _ “Thank you! _ I had given up looking.”

“Not a single  _ Accio?” _ he teased her. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” she said, going over and sitting on the edge of the bed and hitting herself on the forehead. “I mean, I probably thought of doing that at least once, because I remember thinking to myself that it might be too delicate to survive being summoned if it was buried in a box or something.” She made a face at Sirius and mimed something shattering apart with her hands. “I liked it too much to summon it shredded and in pieces.”

“Well it gave me something to hold onto, when you were gone today,” Sirius said, sitting down beside her. “Was it a custom order? I recognize some of the symbols on it, but I don’t really understand them.”

Elodie yawned, the strength of it so strong that she had to hold onto the bed to avoid falling off.

“Wow, I think I saw halfway down to your stomach, there,” Sirius said in wonderment. 

“I’m too tired to hex you, and that’s really saying something,” Elodie said, swatting out at him with the hand holding the bracelet. As always, she was too slow.

“We can talk in the morning, love. Go on, curl up,” he encouraged. 

She tucked her precious bracelet away and reached for her pillows. Before long, she had drifted off to sleep, still wearing the same clothes as she’d had on at Hogwarts.

8888888888888888

When Elodie woke up the next morning, it was with Sirius’s warm body pressed against her back and his arm slung over her side. His breathing was steady and his body felt slack against her, so she simply smiled and slid her hand into the loose curl of his hand. 

The button of her jeans pushed against her belly in an uncomfortable way that told her it had been doing so the whole night. Elodie stretched out her right leg from its curled up position, trying to give the irritated skin an adjusted angle. Her wand was probably still tucked into the wand pocket along the side of her jeans, out of reach, or she would cast a  _ Tempus _ to find out what time it was. Judging by the light coming in his windows, it was early on, though, so she wasn’t worried about missing the appointment she and Remus had at Hogwarts that day.

Elodie shifted her hips a bit, and Sirius responded to this in his sleep by clutching closer to her.  _ Admit it, _ she thought to herself.  _ You were hoping he’d do that. _

She rolled her eyes at herself and shifted her hips one last time, leaving her on her back with Sirius’s forehead on her shoulder and his arm still crossed over her stomach. Now, he slid his bent right leg over her legs, and she felt what had to be his morning erection against her leg.

Last night, Elodie had been so exhausted that she hadn’t paid much attention to what she was wearing when she fell asleep. Now, in the early morning light, everything about her clothes felt awful and uncomfortable. She had on a camisole that had shifted around underneath her button-down shirt, constricting her armpit. Sleeping in a bra was the  _ worst idea ever, _ followed closely by sleeping in the slim fit jeans she’d worn all night. She hadn’t even thought to unbutton them and slide the zipper down for a bit of room-- though if she’d have done that, she would have just taken them off completely.

So now she had a choice: slide out from under Sirius and sneak downstairs to dress, leaving him to possibly feel bereft? Or start loosening her clothes or outright remove some of them? Elodie had been surprised that Sirius hadn’t seemed to want to progress their relationship toward deeper waters sexually, but while he always managed to dodge the concept in the evenings, he still kissed her like he was as full of desire as she was, and he still joked about it on occasion.

Whether his reticence came from a desire to let her continue to shake off her feelings for Remus or for some other, unknown reason, Elodie had decided not to push.  _ Much. _

Taking off her clothes right now would be pushing. In her opinion, though, pressing one’s erection against one’s girlfriend in bed was  _ also _ somewhat of a push, but she did know that it was a normal body reaction. If she were being honest with herself, though, Elodie could admit that she wanted to push. She wanted his hands on her, his body on her, his chest against her chest, his lips against her lips, his everything on, around, and  _ in _ her. He was a whirlwind, and she wanted to be spun irrevocably into his orbit.

She felt oddly confident as she lifted her left arm and started to unbutton her long-sleeved shirt. It was well made, and the buttons slid easily from their buttonholes. When she got to where Sirius’s arm was, she tugged the smooth fabric and it came free easily. She made sure the trailing edges of the hem didn’t tickle him. Thanks to the way her undershirt had ridden up, his bare arm was now against the bare skin of her stomach, and that felt really good. Elodie felt a fire start to burn deep in her gut, half anticipation and half straight up desire.

For a minute or two, Elodie lay still and enjoyed feeling and hearing the rhythm of Sirius’s breathing and the warmth of his arm on her bare skin. Then, she leaned her body toward him so that his face wasn’t pressed against her shoulder. In as swift a move as she could, she tugged that arm out of its sleeve, having to wriggle a bit, since her weight was on it. She barely got the fabric out of the way before Sirius started to push closer to her again.

Sirius made a ‘mmmm’ noise and curled his arm with that hand sliding up under her tank top along her back, pulling her upper body toward him. Elodie couldn’t help but smile, considering he’d nestled his face against her breasts. With her teeth, Elodie held onto the cuff of the remaining sleeve and slid her arm out of it, dropping it on the floor. When she looked down, all she saw was a mass of shaggy black hair. It was obvious that she couldn’t remove anything else from her top half without waking him up, and that just wasn’t as much fun.

She could totally picture his face when he woke up and found her wearing  _ far _ fewer articles of clothing than when they’d gone to sleep.

Elodie reached up and pulled the top pillow out from under her head. There remained a very thin pillow underneath it, which was a testament to how out of it she had been the night before, given how picky she usually was about pillows. This put her shoulder at a different angle than it was before, and gently, Elodie lay her left arm down along her body. Sirius’s arm was now resting up against her ribs, and she hoped that she could scoot her hips back and unbutton her trousers without him detecting too much movement where their arms touched.

Her right arm was trapped beneath her, but her right hand was free to move around a little. Her waistband was out of reach of it, though. Sirius’s breath against her chest was distracting as hell, especially since it seemed to be aimed directly at her nipple. The thought that he might be awake, and they might each be playing some sort of sexually charged chicken with each other made her fight back a chuckle.

Elodie moved her knees up closer to her chest and slid her hips back a bit, which provided some nice pressure against the ache between her legs. She reached down and popped the button on her jeans and risked sliding the zipper down a bit, and Sirius’s hitched breath reaction to the sudden movement seemed so genuine that she became convinced he was still sleeping, somehow. That upped the ante for Elodie.

The trousers  _ had _ to come off.

All the movement had quickened her breathing, and Elodie made herself lay still for a few minutes. The slow burn of anticipation was rapidly becoming a bonfire. Without thinking about it, she lifted her fingers up to her lips and traced them with her fingers, thinking about the way Sirius would kiss her when he woke up. Would it be slow and drugging or frantic and desperate? She wanted both.

Avoiding brushing Sirius’s arm with hers, Elodie reached down and pushed the thick waistband of her jeans down her hips. When she lifted her head to peek, she saw that by pure chance, she was wearing black underwear.  _ Was _ it chance, though, considering her firm faith in the whole ‘cinematic universe’ concept, yesterday?

Elodie was not going to think about yesterday. She took a deep breath and moved her left leg just far enough to catch hold of the hem. That angle was not going to work for trouser removal, and in frustration, Elodie grabbed the silky camisole fabric bunched up under her armpit and tugged it over her head, dislodging Sirius. If he woke up, so be it.

“Too early,” Sirius mumbled. He flailed a hand out, grasping her remaining pillow and rolling over to his other side, hugging it. He’d almost punched her in the face! Elodie was left with no pillow, almost no clothing, and a childishly adorable Sirius who definitely did not want to be awake. She took the opportunity to strip off her jeans anyway. After a second’s hesitation, she removed her panties as well. There was plenty of Sirius’s ridiculously oversized blanket hanging down across the bottom of the bed, so she pulled it up and over her lower half.

Elodie turned her body sideways and pressed up against Sirius’s bare back, burying her face into the nape of his neck. He had such a spicy, masculine scent to him, and it went straight to her core. Every deep breath she took felt like she was drugging herself.

“I wish you could hear yourself, you probably don’t even realize you’re making little noises,” Sirius said softly.

Elodie froze.

Slowly, Sirius started to roll over, and Elodie fought her immediate impulse to tug the blanket up to cover her chest. With his hair all over his face, it wasn’t until he was fully turned in her direction and had tossed his hair back that he could see her.

Slowly, his eyes dark and his expression intense, Sirius looked her up and down.

“God, that feels like you’re touching me, with that look,” she whispered hoarsely.

In response, Sirius lifted his right hand and spread his fingers wide, then, angling his body up so he could control how gently he touched her, he started to trace his hand down her body, starting at her hair. His hand was warm. She felt like eddies of magic and arousal swirled away from every brush of his fingerprints on her skin. By the time his middle finger slid slowly down her breastbone over her splinching scars and snagged on the lace of her bra, she was breathing so heavily that it was as if she was pressing up into him by the force of it.

“I need to stop, because if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to lose my  _ mind,” _ Sirius said, sliding the flat of his hand smoothly back up her body and into her hair. She lifted her head and met him in a kiss that felt like it soothed and stoked the ache she felt all at once. The urgency in Sirius’s voice translated into how closely he pressed against her, and in the way his tongue swept into her mouth in domination.

Sirius’s fingers curled into her hair like he was trying his hardest not to grab fistfuls of it to just hold on. She had a tight grip on his shoulder, and when they finally broke apart from the kiss, she found that she had been clutching at the waistband of his sweatpants. Elodie let go and tried to pat down the way the fabric was bunched up where she’d been holding onto it so tightly. She avoided his teasing expression but arching up and kissing his shoulder where her other hand had left a red mark.

“So when did this happen?” Sirius asked her, tracing the back of his hand against her stomach. “Please tell me I didn’t strip you in your sleep, I don’t know how to challenge myself to a duel!”

“I woke up wearing too many clothes,” Elodie said, smiling shyly as she shrugged. 

Sirius’s expression was quite gratifying. He straightened up from where he’d been lying twisted sideways beside her and stretched his arms out the way she always saw him do in the mornings. Seeing him doing it in bed beside her with his arms unclothed felt almost unbearably intimate, and she arched her back a bit, tightening her thigh muscles in the process. That felt  _ fantastic _ in certain places, but definitely nowhere near enough pressure.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t because you were too hot, because if you are, I have some bad news,” Sirius said, smiling devilishly while widening his eyes at her. Before she could stop him, he’d slid her body sideways so that she found herself in the very center of his bed, the blanket tangled around her legs. Elodie blinked up at him, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She started to reach for him, but he shook his head at her like she was interrupting some sort of special process. Sirius brushed aside a stray lock of hair that had landed close to her lips.

Then, he pounced.

There was no other word for it; a split second after planting one knee beside her blanketed hip, his other knee and both forearms came down on either side of her. His large hands slid down to pull her arms up above her head, and he started to kick the blanket out of the way. As soon as he did, she felt how hard he was even through the thick cloth of the sweatpants. Elodie bit her lip and smiled, waiting for him to notice how bare she was.

Sirius was distracted by something else, though. He angled his hand under her back and expertly released the clasp of her bra. While he busied himself with kissing every inch the strap slid down on her arm, Elodie asked him a question.

“Did you feel like you’re defying your mother every time you’re able to undo a Muggle girl’s bra?”

Sirius shot her a sexually charged cross look and sat up, basically on her lap. He pointed at her. “You are clearly not overwhelmed enough. You’re asking me about other women  _ and my mother?! _ ”

“Oh my God, I am so--” Elodie broke off, covering her face with her hands in sheer mortification. There were ten whole seconds of complete silence in the room.

“Almost naked,  _ underneath me, _ and speechless. You’re forgiven,” Sirius said, his voice low and gravely.

_ “That tone of your voice _ makes me speechless all by itself, you know,” Elodie said from behind the hands still covering her face. She moved them out of the way and looked at Sirius with a very pleased with herself expression, which she knew would pique his curiosity even before she said what she planned to say. She pulled her bra the rest of the way off as she said, “--speaking of ‘speechless,’ it’s not ‘almost naked.’”

His eyes followed her bra as if he regretted missing the chance at taking it off of her himself, but then seemed to register exactly what she had said. To help him along, Elodie rolled her hips.

Sirius immediately shifted from straddling her and sitting up to stretching out on top of her, one hand on either side of her face, staring down at her with lust-darkened eyes.

“There is so much I want to do right now,” Sirius said in a low, almost agonized tone. He dipped his head down and kissed her, and when she sought his tongue with hers, his hips ground into hers. 

She was  _ definitely _ aware of the noises she was making, at this point. Elodie moaned into his mouth when Sirius dragged his hand down to thumb at her nipple. He kissed her neck, but soon was panting his hot breath along her skin there when she arched her back and wrapped her legs around him. This angled his clothed erection exactly where she wanted him.

“Ellie, I--” Sirius snaked his hand down from her breast, unerringly sliding down between her legs.  _ “Fuck, _ you’re so wet,” he gasped, taking advantage of the way her legs went slack to slide sideways off of her so he could touch her with more control. 

“Want you,” Elodie moaned, planting one foot for leverage and pushing up against his fingers so that they slid inside her just a bit.

“I want to touch you everywhere, with everything, but Elodie I don’t--I can’t wait, I need to--” Sirius said, his hand stuttering in its caresses inside her as he fought to remove his trousers with the other.

Elodie had been alternately grabbing handfuls of the sheet underneath them and scrabbling at his hair, but now she reached down and pulled his hand up between their bodies. She felt like a different, desperate, wanton person, but Sirius let her drag his hand up to her mouth.

“Yes, now. Now would be--” she paused to lick his fingers. “Perfect.”

_ “Yes,” _ Sirius breathed. “Just one second, while I--” He rolled away from her, and she propped herself up on an elbow to see that he’d managed to trap one of his legs in the mess of blanket, which explained why he couldn’t take off his trousers expediently. Sirius grabbed his wand, cast a spell under his breath that she missed the target of, then threw his sweatpants into the air and disappeared them with a second muttered spell, punctuated by a swear word.

“Really?” she asked, amused.

“Really,” he confirmed, turning back to her and sliding up and over. He was deliciously warm, and she wondered if the spell he’d cast had made him charged with some sort of magical energy, because wherever they touched, she felt almost singed with the strength of her desire for him.

“What is it?” he whispered, and she realized her disappointment at the idea he might have cast something to enhance what was already an incredible feeling must have shown on her face.

“You cast a spell, I thought maybe it was what made me feel so--”

“Contraceptive charm,” he interrupted, kissing her briefly, heatedly. “Whatever we’re feeling, that’s all us.”

“Wow,” she couldn’t help saying. “Imagine how--”

Sirius interrupted her again, this time but rocking his hips in just the right way to slide the tip of his cock inside her. He nuzzled her nose with his, and she nodded, stroking her hand down his back as far down as she could reach, and tugging him closer.

He teased her by sliding in only a bit more, but she could tell the strain this put on him by how his whole body was shaking.

“Only you would hold yourself back like this just to tease me!” she said. 

“I was waiting for you to stop staring at my ass so I could look you in the eyes,” he said in that gravely voice she loved so much, his lips by her ear.

This had her blushing and canting her hips to lift one leg up and push her heel into his ass, just as he lifted his head back to look at her. She made eye contact and he thrust all the way. It took real effort not to close her eyes at the sensation. As she trembled at how he felt inside her, how wonderfully stretched and intimate this was, he pulled out and thrust in again, groaning.

“This,” he said, capturing her mouth and speeding his pace. They kissed and panted against each other as the tension built.  _ “This, _ ” Sirius keened.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered when he stopped kissing her to press his face into her hair.

His deep chuckle on hearing this made her clench around him, and his breath hitched. “If you insist.”

He kissed her again, but it was clear that the need to breathe was superseding. He changed his angle, holding himself up on one hand and leaning his head over, his hair swaying with the force of his thrusts. The pleasure she was already feeling started to build toward something wonderful. Sirius’s muscles under her hands bunched and stretched, and Elodie closed her eyes and gave herself over to it, right as she felt him reach down and brush his fingers over her clit.

Her eyes blew wide and Sirius swore under his breath because of how she clung to him with every part of her body in breathless anticipation. She caught his eye and he grinned at her, gorgeous and sweaty, before leaning down to kiss her neck and groan.

Elodie arched her back and came, wrapping her legs and arms around him as she shook with white-hot pleasure. He stopped stroking her at exactly the right moment, mostly because he was right behind her, his mouth open and a long satisfied groan seeming to be wrenched from him as his hips stuttered with his own orgasm. 

Sirius collapsed against her and sought her mouth in a kiss that was more about connection and comfort and grounding to reality than anything else. She felt sated and lethargic, like putty in his hands when he turned her onto her side and spooned up behind her, pulling the blanket overtop of them in one sweep of his arm.

Elodie was lying on his arm, and she reached out to slide her hands around his, one cupped underneath and the other lying across his palm. She felt his pulse against the sensitive skin of her own wrist, and gave a contented sigh. They lay like this for many long minutes.

“That was worth the wait,” Sirius finally said, nuzzling at her hair.

“You know that opens you up for questions, right?” Elodie said quietly, not wanting to sound nagging so soon after  _ that. _

“I wasn’t going to have sex when Harry was in danger, and I didn’t want you to talk me into changing my mind,” Sirius confessed. She felt him tensing up, waiting for a reply.

“That sounds reasonable,” Elodie told him. “I would have understood, though. For the record.”

“Thank you,” Sirius said, squeezing her tightly against him in a hug for a few seconds. “I couldn’t risk it. You are relentless when you want something.”

“Looks like that now plays to your advantage!” she teased.

“I volunteer to be persuaded,” he said in a relaxed, happy tone. “I also might need you to go buy me some new sleep trousers.”

 


	42. Knut For Your Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie has a long conversation with the real Alastor Moody, and is dismayed by the possibility of meeting a rival so early.

 

Many minutes later, when Elodie was getting dressed and Sirius was in the shower, she found her charm bracelet in her discarded bra on the floor. It wasn’t hard to picture Sirius, anxious for news and afraid for his closest friends, curled up on the rug in her bedroom, or nosing at her blankets and pillows as Padfoot.

She couldn’t sit naked on Sirius’s bed all morning, though. She had a meeting to go to, and an infamous ex-Auror to meet.

Elodie used her wand to arrange the mess of blankets and pillows on the bed into a vague heart shape that was one hundred percent not going to be noticed by her boyfriend. Then, she headed downstairs to get clothes for after her own shower.

Twenty-five minutes later, Elodie was at the kitchen table with her hair up in a damp towel charmed to stay put, munching on a breakfast pastry she’d made days before.

Remus came in, dressed much nicer than usual, with a dress shirt and tie under the vest, today. When she saw him, Elodie whipped the towel off of her hair and hung it self-consciously on the back of her chair.

“I assume that stasis charms for baked goods still have some sort of shelf-life or expiration, right? I mean, it’s basically spelling them to avoid the effects of getting stale, but a certain amount of going stale is just the length of time since it’s been made, right? They still dry out?” she said. She wasn’t as much asking Remus a specific question as making inane conversation.

“Nervous about meeting Moody?” Remus asked her with a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, bite me,” Elodie said, annoyed that he’d figured out the reason why she felt so off kilter. Remus was silent, and Elodie looked over at him to finally realize the implications of what she’d said. “At least I didn’t say ‘eat me?’”

“I confess I have little to no experience doing either, even to animals,” Remus said, steadily drinking from his teacup until he’d drained it. “We need to leave,” he said in a more brisk tone.

“Oh, I just thought of something I need to grab. You can either go on ahead or I’ll just be a minute,” Elodie said. Though she’d bottled up the memory Albus had left in the Pensieve like a forgotten mix-tape, she hadn’t ever seen it. She had forgotten to leave it in the case when she and Sirius had returned the Pensieve, so she wanted to take it with her today. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she’d installed in her living space and quickly cast a drying charm on her hair.

When Elodie reached the top of the basement stairs, she heard Remus’s voice and felt a little boost in her confidence because he’d waited for her. He was nodding to Sirius, who was handing him a parchment roll.

“No sense in making the owl fly so far today,” Sirius said cheerfully. “Be secretive with Moody today,” he told her with a straight face. “He loves when women do that.”

“Sirius! That is the exact wrong way to treat Moody, and you know that!” Remus objected with a shocked expression.

“He’s teasing, but he’s lucky I know better. You want me to call you a bad man, Sirius, but I steadfastly refuse,” Elodie sniffed. With her head held high, she marched past him and into the Floo to Hogwarts.

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Elodie didn’t get a chance to give Albus his memory when she arrived in his office, because he was in a hurry. The professors competent enough to teach Defense were taking turns with the classes, and understandably, Albus was scheduled to teach the seventh years. They met before lunch on Fridays, so he wasn’t late, but he did explain that he wanted to look over what ‘Moody’ had been teaching, if he’d left notes at all.

Remus and Albus had a polite but heated discussion about the various ways Albus planned to ‘fudge over’ the whole affair as the three of them walked to the hospital ward. It sounded to her like Remus was objecting to the idea of essentially guessing what was covered in class.

She let her fingers trace over the charms on the bracelet that Sirius had found for her and tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Moody, not really, it was just that her grip on ‘belonging’ in this universe felt tenuous, and she was flat out terrified he would figure that out. Elodie took a few deep, long breaths to settle herself, and her eyes fell on the paw print charm of the bracelet. Sirius’s words right as she’d left made her smile, despite herself, which was probably his intention the whole time.

It was with this smile on her face that she followed Albus and Remus as they walked through the doors of the hospital ward, turning quickly toward an unmarked door. Albus raised his hand in acknowledgement of Madam Pomfrey, who nodded in return. He cast an incantation and tapped the doorknob with his wand, opened the door, and ushered the two of them through before him.

_ Look suspicious my ASS, Sirius Black! _ Elodie thought to herself. His audacity was part of his charm, she knew, but it was so like him to say something like that. He was a fugitive, she was his girlfriend, and he would still joke about something that could get him caught by one of the most famous Aurors in magical history.

And he might just have said it specifically to get her in this amused mood during her introduction to that Auror.

Sirius Black had some  _ serious _ depths.

The room was small but cheerful, with a fireplace across from the end of the bed. Moody himself was sitting up, propped by pillows, with a patchwork quilt in various shades of brown stretched over his lap. She got the impression that the blanket was his own, and that it was only there as a concession to his being required to remain in bed. She couldn’t see his face, as Remus’s body was blocking her view of him, but the bed looked nicer than the cots in the main hospital wing.

“Alastor, I’m pleased to introduce you to Elodie Merriman and Remus Lupin,” Albus said.

Remus was in front of her, so he walked up to the bed and reached out to shake Moody’s hand.

“Lupin! I remember you; grown into that height, I think. Thanks for your help.” 

Alastor Moody’s voice was  _ the same, _ and she felt a sharp stab of remembered fear. Elodie closed her eyes and forced herself to come up with a list to refute the sudden fears.

 

  * __His voice isn’t shaking like the fake Moody’s was__


  * _You watched Barty Crouch, Jr. transform, so you KNOW this man is not him_


  * _The true measure of a person is what their personality is like, not what they look like or sound like_


  * _Crouch’s body was shaking the whole time you saw him as Moody_


  * _Maybe you could ask him to hold his hand out flat and steady for you?_



 

“Elodie?” A hand coming to rest on her shoulder brought her back out of her musings. She opened her eyes. Albus, who had called out to her, was looking sympathetic. Remus, who had touched her, looked concerned. Moody’s expression was guarded, but suspicious.

As always, Elodie relied on the truth.

She addressed her words to Moody. “I’m so sorry. The second I heard your voice, I was transported back to hearing the same voice last night. I shut my eyes and reminded myself that it wasn’t you.” Remus squeezed her shoulder, and let go. She didn’t look at him, but she had a good idea what his expression would look like just the same.

“Makes perfect sense. Think you can come over here?” Moody said in his gruff voice. His prosthetic eye had been shifting its gaze seemingly randomly, but at this, it fixed on her as if ordered to.

“Okay,” Elodie said, walking over to him.

“Did the other one touch you?” he asked, rather bluntly. She shook her head, and this must have been the answer he was looking for, as he thrust out his right hand. “Here’s a new experience for you, then!”

Elodie took the handshake and tried not to wince at the force of it. Moody saw this and correctly interpreted it.

“That’s how you know it’s me. I won’t let up on you, despite what you’ve been through. Keep sharp!”

Albus started to speak from behind her. “So, Alastor, as you know, I’m taking your class today, and Remus has agreed to assist today. You wanted to speak to Elodie about her experience, yes? Are you comfortable with our leaving the two of you in privacy?” 

Elodie would have rather Albus asked her if  _ she _ was comfortable with the idea.

“Fine, fine,” Moody said, waving them toward the door. “There are miniaturized chairs on that shelf, go on and grab one,” he said to Elodie.

“We’ll meet after lunch about your classes, then?” Albus added from the doorway.

“About that,” Elodie rushed to say. “I was thinking, to keep Professor Moody’s reputation intact, I think it would be closer to the truth to tell the students that he was attacked-- which is true --and has no memory of teaching class up to this point, which is also true.”

“Less deception! The idea has merit, Albus,” Moody said, his eye finally resuming its jerky perusal of the room.

Albus stood thoughtfully in the doorway for what felt like a long time with his hands loosely clasped in front of him as he looked past them to the window, clearly thinking. “I had avoided that option because of what it might say about your reputation, given that it involves having been attacked,” he said at last.

“Bah. I  _ was _ attacked. This is less work,” Moody said in a booming voice.

Elodie watched the indecision on her friend’s face and pushed just a bit harder. “It’s not like these students aren’t used to something happening each year to their DADA professor…” Albus’s slow, thoughtful nod on hearing this was gratifying to her.

When Remus and Albus were gone, she walked over to the shelf Moody had gestured to and found the chairs. Picking one, she walked over and set it down, casting the enlarging charm self-consciously. It was larger than she had anticipated, which put it closer to the bed than she had planned on sitting.

Moody watched her in silence, but he was clearly sizing her up. Elodie left the chair where it was, and walked over to settle into it.

“You usually sit differently, I think,” Moody observed.

“You’re right. I curl my legs under me, most of the time, but then again, I’m on a couch or soft chair most of the time.” Moody nodded as if this was enough explanation to satisfy him.

“So, you’re American. Albus told me about you. I asked him enough questions that he started answering them to shut me up,” he told her, narrowing his good eye a bit as if anticipating her reaction. This was incongruent to the humor in his voice, and it was unsettling. Elodie figured this was also on purpose. 

“That’s less I need to explain, then,” she said cheerfully.

Moody turned and used his wand to summon a large cup of water. He lifted it apologetically before drinking from it, as if to say ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t offer you any.’

“I imagine you’re not used to speaking this much all at once,” Elodie said.

“Spoke more than I had a mind to, in that chest,” he said darkly. Then his mood changed abruptly to a more upbeat tone, and he said, “You left America in May, then?”

Inwardly, Elodie groaned. She’d been worried about seeming truthful in front of Moody, but managed to forget that Mellie’s experiences counted as her own! Why hadn’t she thought to examine her diary more?!

_ Truth, or as close to the truth as you can hack it, Ellie, _ she told herself.

“I’m sure you noticed my pause, there,” she said ruefully. He nodded, his so-called mad eye once again fixed on her. “I have trouble locating my memories from right when I got here. Not only were they a bit traumatic-- getting out from under my mentor, that sort of thing --but they are also affected by the memory curse.”

Moody’s response was to once again thrust out a hand, this time his left. Without thinking, Elodie took it, and suddenly she felt a pressure in her mind, and her memories started to flash in front of her. The memories themselves weren’t manifesting in the room like they would have in a Pensieve, but they didn’t feel like they were solely in her own head, either. It was a profoundly strange feeling.

The presence (it was clearly Moody) in her mind started indiscriminately sifting through them as if verifying page numbers on one’s way to finding the correct one. 

_ Elodie dropping Mellie’s diary and watching its cover flip back to the way it had been before.  _

_ Elodie leaving the bus at the Park and Ride in Boston after an afternoon visiting friends. _

_ Elodie taking a picture of her best friend with the Statue of Liberty behind her during a visit right after college. _

_ A teenaged Elodie with her grandmother, both sitting in the sand and digging their toes in deeper and deeper. _

Moody reversed direction; it seemed so strange that she could tell that was what he was doing. This was Legillimency, she knew, but she had no Occlumency training, and she had no idea where to start. So far, Moody hadn’t looked at anything she felt ashamed of, but she had a feeling that would change soon…

_ Elodie picking up her wand from the side table beside her bed at Hollyfield. _

_ Elodie and Sirius talking about removing memories of the fairy incident before she walked over and touched Remus’s face. _

_ Moony in the cage, with Elodie collapsed against the empty, warded doorway in tears. _

_ Sirius walking toward her with purpose and kissing her, and her seeing Remus in the window. _

At this, Elodie started to push against his intrusion. She imagined herself shoving his hands away from the pages he was turning. It was ineffective.

_ Elodie in the memory of her mother’s bedside, sitting down and feeling as though her mom was making eye contact with her. _

She tried to tug her hand out of his grip, but he was too strong.

_ Elodie in the Forbidden Forest, finally hearing Moody’s voice, and realizing she would have to confront him. _

Elodie hoped that would be enough, that he would stop, but it was like he’d looked through milestones, and then emotional moments, and now there was one more category to poke through.

_ Elodie realizing that her speed up spell for the Wolfsbane would stop her from going to her dying mother. She felt so guilty. _

Shoving and pushing against his presence in her mind had no effect, so now Elodie started putting up obstacles. Moody crashed through her wooden house door with no effort whatsoever.

_ Elodie being so miserable after fighting with Remus that she splinched herself. She felt so terrible at how much trouble Remus and Sirius had to go through to help her. _

She placed an iron gate with steel walls beside it in front of the rest of her memories, and felt proud of herself. The gate started to lift up, and she realized she’d again chosen a barrier which was intended to open periodically.

_ Elodie looking down at Moody deep inside the chest he’d been hidden in. She  _ had _ to rescue him, only she knew he was there! _

Elodie dropped the motherfucking Himalayas down smack in the middle of that memory.

Moody let go of her mind, and her hand.

“How did you see that? Who was that? It looked like me, but--” Moody demanded, sounding profoundly upset.

It was her memory of seeing the  _ Goblet of Fire _ movie, she realized. In actuality, Elodie had never seen the real Alastor Moody trapped in the chest. She had no idea how close to reality the scene from the movie was. It was, of course, not even the same person!

Moody had gone through her emotionally charged memories and focused on ones that contained a feeling of culpability, of guilt. Considering how much time she’d pondered how best to save him, it made sense that he would find that one.

Now, she had to figure out how to explain it.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said, truthfully. “Sometimes I just see things, bad things, before they happen. I kept seeing this image of someone deep in a narrow space.” She stopped herself before she elaborated further; she needed to see how he would react.

Moody was looking at her with a deep curiosity in her eyes, but there was an overlay of suspicion. It might always be there, though, given who it was she was looking at.

“This happened before? You said ‘things,’” he pointed out.

_ He is sharp, _ she thought to herself. “Yes. I saw the riot after the Quidditch World Cup.”

There was less suspicion now, and more excitement. “How far in advance?” he asked intently, his mad eye looking her up and down repeatedly.

“That, I’m not sure, I only have two data points,” she said immediately. “After all, you’ve been trapped for months. I can’t say for certain when this past year I first ‘saw,’” and here, she formed the quotes with her fingers as she spoke, “--that image. I had a strong sense of foreboding on the day of the World Cup, but not much before.”

Elodie had hewn as close to the truth as she dared. She was telling the truth on both counts; she couldn’t say when in this version of 1994 she first pictured that scene from the film, and she had nearly forgotten the riot until the very day it was going to happen. Moody kept patting his chest, then his hip, over and over as she spoke, until she realized he might be trying to find something with which to take notes.

On an impulse, she conjured up a notebook, a quill, and an ink pot. She didn’t know how to conjure a self-inking quill, and she didn’t think a pureblood like him would appreciate a Muggle ink pen. With the items in hand, Elodie looked back over at Moody, who had his eyes closed and his head tipped back, concentrating. She felt a moment of indecision. Should she interrupt him and risk a bad reaction if he had been committing her information to some sort of mental memory bank? Should she wait?

She decided to wait at least a little bit, and so she fiddled with the supplies she had just created, flipping the notebook to its first page and checking the ink pot’s lid for tightness. She peeked at Moody and saw him watching her.

“You looked like you were trying to find your note taking supplies, so…”

Elodie offered them to Moody.

He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re a dilemma,” he said gruffly, pointing at her. “This is thoughtful of you. Your help, however it came about, is appreciated. But you are an unknown quantity, young lady.”

He did take the supplies, and Elodie waited, looking elsewhere as he dipped the quill into the ink and started scratching out his thoughts. When she glanced at him, he was staring at her with both eyes.

“I get it, honestly,” she said, standing up and walking around her chair to pace, twisting her hands together in front of herself. “I’m American, I came out of nowhere in a situation seemingly designed to get me into Albus Dumbledore’s good graces. I happen to be a Potions Master, so I can brew Remus Lupin’s Wolfsbane.”

Moody’s eyebrows shot up, and he scribbled down something quickly. Elodie shook her head at the thought of Sirius. Moody had seen him in her memories, but had he recognized an older, scruffy Sirius Black? She had no idea whether or not Albus had told Moody about who the real secret keeper had been, and she felt like she was not the person qualified to tell him about that if he didn’t know. He was still an Auror, after all!

“Don’t stop there! You see an unclear image in your mind of a man inside a box and then, what?  _ How did you connect them,” _ he said with ferocious intensity.

“That’s the thing!” Elodie said in a voice too loud for the room. She winced and took a deep breath. “I didn’t. I didn’t connect them. I’m friends with people who care about Harry Potter, and we started thinking about what had happened over the past years at Hogwarts, and what that might mean about this year. It was a logical progression,” she told him, coming up behind the chair she’d been sitting in and clutching the back of it with both hands. 

Her story was a strain on credulity, but only because her real motivations were so out of the box, so unrealistic, that no one would have ever guessed them. As she had done in the past while talking to Albus or Remus, Elodie threw herself into the role she’d created for herself. It wasn’t too difficult this time, because she’d needed to do that to lay the groundwork for suspicion about what could be wrong with ‘Professor Moody.’

Moody’s scratching paused, and Elodie realized something. She wondered if he’d seen it in her memories.

The man in the narrow, cramped space had been wearing Moody’s mad eye. She should have known it was him, whether or not his face was the same.

“I don’t deserve any kind of credit like I’ve done something extraordinary. If anything, I’ve failed to act expediently. It’s January, and school started in September,” she said.

“That’s assuming you had the vision by then!” he said dismissively. “Are you trying to convince me you’re a Death Eater?”

Elodie forced herself not to look at or touch her left forearm. “No.”

“You’d be a stupid one if you were. There’s no logic in destroying a perfectly good plan with a man on the inside by inserting a complete stranger with no previous connections,” he scoffed. 

“Surely an Auror of your stature doesn’t assume everyone thinks logically?” she said. With widening eyes, Elodie realized she’d  _ teased _ Alastor Moody.

He laughed. It sounded like it had been ripped from his chest at first, a surprise that was not wholly unwelcome.

_ “You _ seem to think logically unless it’s interpersonal, in my limited experience!” he guffawed.

“Ouch,” she said, smiling.

“Ergo, a bad spy. Decent rescuer, though,” he said, leaning toward her with the remnants of a smile on his weathered face.

“I’m not taking Harry’s credit from him,” she objected. “He’s the one who realized your counterpart wasn’t drinking alcohol and decided to see what it really was.”

“Who told him to check?” Moody asked shrewdly. Elodie looked down, unwilling to claim responsibility but equally unwilling to lie. “Ha!” he said.

She wanted to change the subject, and with the chair between them, she felt brave enough to confront him.

“Are you supposed to go around using Legillimency on people without asking first?” she asked pointedly.

“You asked me that for my reaction, or to change the subject,” Moody said, leaning back on his pillows and crossing his arms.

“I’m really not that complex of a person, but thank you,” she countered.

“You didn’t refute it.”

“‘Constant vigilance?’” she asked with a quirk of her lips.

“Exactly.”

They stared at each other from their respective fortresses; Moody’s comprised almost completely of glowering intensity, and Elodie’s the relatively flimsy barrier of the chair.

“I saw things that weren’t my business,” he finally said.

“You have some good reasons to be suspicious of me,” Elodie said in return.

There was another long silence.

“I think you’re the real thing,” he told her in a brusque, declarative tone.

“I was just thinking the same about you, actually,” she said, as if she were doing him a great favor.

Moody laughed again, and this time it sounded like there were fewer cobwebs in it.

“So,” he said, gesturing to the chair in a nonverbal request. She came back to sit as he spoke again. “This Crouch, he attacked you?”

“Yes, despite shaking almost uncontrollably from the Polyjuice wearing off. Then, later, as himself,” she said.

“You ever been in a duel before?”

She couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that came out upon hearing that. “This was definitely not a duel. This was… I don’t even know. An attack repelled, at best?”

“Does that bother you?” he pushed.

Elodie thought about it. “A bit. I wanted to protect Harry. In retrospect it would probably have been a good idea to do that without feeling helpless.”

“Would you like to learn?”

That sounded like an offer, and she stared at him. His face was a mask of calm, which was amusing to her, because given how bombastic and animated he’d been throughout their conversation, she could tell that this meant Moody was concealing his inner thoughts from her. Just as he opened his mouth to elaborate, though, there was a rap at the door, and it opened.

“Oh good, you’re both alive,” Remus said (rather bravely, she thought). He was alone. “It’s lunch, now, and Madam Pomfrey told me on no uncertain terms that you were to be left alone while eating when the house elves bring your food.”

“No gobbling up Red Riding Hood out from under me, Lupin,” Moody said, grinning. Remus’s cross look made her want to laugh, but she could also see a bit of levity in the way he was holding the expression. She suspected that this might be a private joke between the two of them from the days of the first Order of the Phoenix.

A faint pop sound announced the arrival of Moody’s lunch. Elodie tried very hard not to stare at the honest to goodness house elf that had appeared in the room. The tray was almost as big as she was.

“I bringing you’s food, sir!” the elf said brightly. “We be thanking the other two to say them’s goodbyes!” she added as she marched past Remus with the tray.

“I hope your recovery goes quickly,” Elodie told Moody as she got up from the chair. She turned to the house elf that was eyeing her with suspicion. “I need to make this chair smaller, if that is all right?”

“Kikki is delivering foods only, miss,” the elf told her with wide eyes.

“All right. Stay back, then,” Elodie said, blushing. She cast the spell to miniaturize and hoped it was the right one as she placed the chair back on the shelf. She remained embarrassed enough to just start for the door without further comment.

“No doubt we’ll see you again soon,” Remus said, holding the door open for her. Elodie was certain that all three of them knew this meant an Order meeting.

“Don’t think you’re escaping my question for long, young lady,” Moody called after her. She’d already walked a few paces from the door, and when she turned to look at him, there was only a quick glimpse of a raised eyebrow and two different eyes staring straight at her before it closed.

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Over the next few days, Phoenix House received quite a few obscurely phrased letters from Albus regarding Order meeting planning. After the first owl about it, Elodie had spent some time worrying that some of the members that were a bit more dodgy were going to be involved earlier in the process. Would she end up sabotaging things  _ more _ by having spurred Moody’s rescue earlier, and thus giving Mundungus Fletcher and possibly others a chance to report their activities? She had felt helpless for a few days before Remus went to Hogwarts on another guest appearance for DADA and came back with more information.

It was afternoon on the nineteenth of January, only a few days before the full moon, and Elodie was on the couch doing a solo brainstorming session about how to prevent Dolores Umbridge from ruining everything she held dear. Sirius was decidedly  _ not _ helping. He was lying on his back along the couch, his feet farthest away from her, which meant that his hands were within ‘annoy Elodie’ distance. When Remus came through the Floo, Sirius quickly grabbed the book he’d been pretending to read and held it up.

“Teaching yourself how to read upside down, Padfoot?” Remus asked in amusement as he walked past. Sirius kicked at him, but Remus was too good at dodging to be hit.

“You’re in luck, I just made some hot water,” Elodie told Remus.

“Thank you!” he said, setting some books down on the floor near his chair. “Research for the column,” he explained when she looked over in interest. “Let me make some tea and then I’ll tell you the latest about the meeting.”

Sirius put the book back down and tipped his head back to look at her upside-down. “Are you still stressing out about the Harry’s next DADA professor?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I don’t want to overuse the whole ‘sees something bad coming’ thing, especially not after telling Moody about it.”

“Speaking of Moody,” Remus said, coming back out faster than she’d expected. He gave no sign of having heard much more than the name, and she remembered that the water had already been hot, so he hadn’t had to wait for the kettle. “He’s much better. Insists on walking all through the school to both re-acclimatize his muscles to walking and learn the place.”

“He always was a beast, in the best sense of the word,” Sirius observed. 

“What do the students think? Since you’ve been subbing a bit,” she asked.

Remus settled into his chair and took a sip. He made a contented noise, and Elodie smiled.

“It’s actually worked out quite well. He no longer has a flask, and Albus announced on last Monday’s breakfast that he’d been attacked outside of Hogwarts, resulting in some memory loss,” Remus told them. “The weekend before that had been full of wild speculation, and so by now the word in the halls seems to be that they think he got completely pissed and that’s how someone got the drop on him.”

“‘Pissed’ as in completely shitfaced,” Sirius supplied helpfully.

“‘Shitfaced’ as in out of your tree, you mean?” Remus asked Sirius with a completely straight face.

“‘Out of your tree’ would be like saying he was sloshed, wouldn’t you say?” Sirius said, sitting up and grinning.

“‘Sloshed’ is another term for being plastered, right?” Remus said, cracking a smile.

“‘Plastered’ as in--”

“Really fucking drunk?” Elodie interrupted.

“Yes,” both men said at the same time. They were both grinning like loons.

“Well that sounds like it’s working out well. Did Albus say what Fudge has managed to get out of Crouch so far?” she asked.

Remus cleared his throat and regained his composure. “He said Fudge was evasive. I suspect he may have just thrown Crouch into Azkaban without bothering to do anything further. I said as much to Albus, and he agreed.”

“Good.” Sirius looked grimly pleased with that idea.

“We also spoke about who else to bring back into the group. Moody agreed that a limited number of trusted people would be the best idea right now,” Remus said. “So far we’re all agreed on Minerva, Kingsley, and an Auror Moody took under his wing named Nymphadora Tonks.”

Elodie gasped. She hadn’t expected to hear that name in a long time, and now she had no real explanation for her reaction at a time when Remus was able to sense more than just surface emotion.

“You okay?” Sirius asked. Remus’s eyebrows had raised at her reaction, but he didn’t seem concerned yet.

“I’m fine, that’s just… quite a name,” she said. It was the best she could do without elaborating, and as tempted as she was to try to bluff her way through with more substance behind her explanation, that would just get her more of Remus’s scrutiny.

To her relief, Remus laughed at her response. “Yes, yes it is. Moody says she hates it with violent intensity, and generally goes by ‘Dora.’”

“Wait,” Sirius said, holding up a finger. “You said ‘Tonks?’”

“Tonks, yes.”

“She’s my cousin! That’s Andromeda’s daughter!” Sirius said, sounding delighted. “If she’s anything like Andy, you’ll like her, Moony.”

“Wow,” Elodie couldn’t help observing. “Praise from an irascible Auror and an escaped fugitive. She has a lot to live up to!”

Sirius started asking about dates of the next meeting, but Elodie was still stuck on thoughts of Nymphadora Tonks. As Remus’s housemate, was she going to have to watch him fall in love with her? Surely he was in a far better emotional and economic state than he had been in the books; would this ease his resistance to her sooner than it had then? Would meeting Tonks early have any demonstrable effect?

She didn’t know what she hoped for, there. All Elodie knew was that she felt the stirrings of jealousy, and she didn’t like it. She did not want to be that person-- and she didn’t want Remus to see her as that person either.

 


	43. Ricochet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus stonewalls Elodie on the January full moon, and the resulting argument leads to some shocking revelations for the whole household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I attempted to adjust my medication, which ended up basically destroying my ability to write for the past few weeks. I breezed through my bank of chapters, and then ended up being bullied by a fandom asshole on Discord. The combo annihilated my ability to write, but I'm back! I also feel like this chapter is kind of like sticking a fork into an electrical outlet, haha. Enjoy! I don't know how soon I'll be able to be back to my old self, so my updating won't be back to its regular insanity for a little while. Thanks for your patience, and remember folks, you might not be able to see the face of the people you interact with online, but they're real people. Don't be tempted to destroy your own good name with behavior you'd never engage in with your friends and family. You only end up looking bad, and the people you hurt then get to possess the moral high ground.
> 
> It's a really fucking nice view, guys.

The January full moon fell on Saturday. The night before, Elodie had gone to her basement room to sleep for the first time since her confrontation with Barty Crouch Jr., but her warming charm did nothing to ease the chill in the air. She’d felt lonely and disconnected, and when she’d come back into Sirius’s room and thrown herself on the bed instead of gathering up her things, Sirius hadn’t even acted smug about it for once.

He was also fond of morning sex.

After her shower, Elodie went looking for her big Potions book, looking for the Gâteaufidél recipe so she could write down the ingredients she would need to make another batch.

“You making those again?” Sirius said from over her shoulder.

Elodie dropped the book in surprise.

From across the room in his chair, Remus cast a quick wandless charm that caught the book before it landed on her foot.

_ “Shit, _ thanks Remus,” Elodie told him, leaning over to rescue the book from the hovering stasis he’d cast on it.

“Anytime. I actually have a habit of casting that when I see objects falling rapidly, but don’t test me,” he said. “In fact, you’re lucky I was here, because I need to go and type up some of the next article now.” He stood up and went into the kitchen with his presumably empty tea cup.

“Thanks again,” she called out after him. “That has to have been the world’s fastest shower, Mr. Black,” she said pointedly to Sirius. His hair was still wet, and he was toweling it dry; his t-shirt stuck to him in places, showing that he hadn’t done a thorough job drying off before dressing, either.

“I just wasn’t feeling it today. Showers are hard to get used to after so long without them,” he said.

Elodie looked over at him. “Oh, wow, I never thought of that.” She finished writing down her ingredients and set the book back on its low shelf. Sirius was in her way when she went to head for her seat on the couch.

“More Gâteaufidél?” he asked her again.

“You don’t have to look smug about tricking me into needing to answer you. I dropped the book because you surprised me, not to avoid the answer,” she said frustratedly, pushing past him. She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, realized that wasn’t what she was initially planning to do, and then noticed they were low on butter. She marked it down, then looked curiously at the last three entries on her list.

  * Caster sugar
  * Butter
  * Tell Sirius the truth



“Honestly, Sirius. Yes! I’m making another batch. On request.” Elodie marched out of the kitchen saying this, her hands on her hips.

“I thought it was cute,” he said, looking a bit ‘deer in the headlights’ at her reaction. She dropped her arms to her sides and came over to kiss him gently.

“It’s cute, but now I need to rewrite my list, because I don’t want anyone at the store to see your name on it. And you’re too important to me to risk just erasing it with magic, in case somehow it comes back,” she explained, sitting down with a new piece of parchment and her pen.

“Oh,” Sirius said in a really surprised voice. She glanced over at him and he looked stunned. “I didn’t think of that. Thank you,” he whispered.

“We’ll clear your name, and it won’t matter anymore,” she responded with conviction in her voice.

“Is that one of the things you’re going to change?” he asked. She hadn’t told him whether or not they’d managed it before his death in the books.

“Yes,” she said, focusing on her list. She put her thumb over the last item so that she didn’t copy it over by rote.

“I’m going to go feed Buckbeak. It’s a meat day,” he said, kissing the top of her head as he stood up.

“Sirius--are you okay?” she asked him as he put on his winter weather gear.

The brilliant grin he flashed her way eased her mind immediately. “Yeah. I’m a careless bloke, and sometimes I get a peek at my life without you and Remus. I’m glad you’re on top of things.”

It was her turn to smile brilliantly at him. “We could try that.”

As much as Elodie wanted to see what his reaction was, the cooler action was to turn back to her list as if she hadn’t turned herself on, too. She steadfastly did  _ not _ look in his direction again, but it took a good thirty seconds before the door opened and he went out.

Elodie counted that as a win.

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Remus started acting distant at dinner, and Elodie knew why. She was still surprised to find his door warded against her knocks an hour later, though. He clearly couldn’t hear her knocking, or he’d open the door, wouldn’t he? Not for the first time, she wondered if Remus somehow had an inkling of what she’d done with Moony, but her gut said no. She trusted Moony to know Remus as well or better than anyone, and he’d been quite clear about how quickly Remus would leave and avoid her if he knew what they’d been up to.

The problem was that Elodie had never meant for her visits with Moony to be about attraction and basically nothing else. The fact that the bulk of the short time they had ever spent around each other was sexually charged was never something she’d expected to define whatever strange connection they had-- she’d expected to get a chance to talk to him and some point, really  _ talk. _ Remus’s obstinacy was putting barriers up in front of that plan, though, and the result was that the totality of her ‘relationship’ with Moony started to look tawdry.

This was not the right argument to bring up with him to change his mind, though!

Elodie decided she would just have to wait for Remus in the living room. She sat down on her couch and crossed her arms. He would have to come past her to go to the basement  _ sometime. _

The minutes ticked by, and her frustration with him only grew.

Elodie couldn’t read when she was this annoyed, and that made the book she’d been trying to read even  _ more _ annoying. Even making a list wasn’t helping, because the longer Remus took to cross the house from his bedroom on his way to the cage in the basement, the more he was risking transforming somewhere other than the cage in the basement.

Was he waiting for her not to be in the living room anymore?

Was this  _ her _ fault?

Elodie stood up and marched over to the basement door, reaching out and putting her hand on the doorknob. She yanked on it, but it stayed completely shut. It was charmed shut.

“What?” she said loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked, coming out from his room. He was sweaty, and she wondered if he’d been doing exercises.

“He charmed the door shut. I was sitting here waiting for him to come out of his room, because  _ that _ door is also charmed shut, and he wasn’t answering my knocks!” Elodie smacked the door with the flat of her hand in frustration. It stung, but it was also very satisfying. “He must have gone down there right after dinner, the  _ asshole!” _

“Never try to out-stubborn Remus Lupin,” Sirius laughed.

“He’s just going to make me cast  _ Petrificus Totallus _ on him at six in the morning on February’s full moon day if this is the way he’s going about it!” Elodie raged. “What is he so afraid of!?”

“If anyone should be worried about Moony it would be me, wouldn’t you think?” Sirius said, taking her arm and walking her away from the basement door.

Elodie stopped short. “But, that’s the thing! I don’t think he knows about that! So, what is it that  _ he _ thinks he’s preventing?” she said in a low, hissing whisper.

“You’re going to have to ask him, Ellie,” Sirius said, raising his eyebrows.

She sighed. “I don’t like keeping things from people,” she said, crossing the rest of the room and throwing herself face-down onto the couch dramatically.

“This from the woman who knows how at least three people she cares deeply for are going to die,” Sirius said in an amused voice.

Elodie lifted her head to glare at him.

“I’m just saying, there are degrees of keeping things from people, and ‘your alter-ego was lonely’ is a lower degree than ‘you’re going to die fighting Voldemort,’ don’t you think?” he said, undaunted by her forbidding facial expression.

“Moony told me Remus would leave if he knew about everything,” she admitted, feeling her eyes well up with tears. “And, well. He’d know, wouldn’t he?” Elodie put her head back down onto the couch nose first.

“Suffocating yourself on the furniture won’t solve anything, you know.” She felt the weight of his body settling into the couch cushion beside where her head was. Elodie made a harrumph noise and moved to rest her cheek on the fabric instead. Sirius started to pet her hair.

“I’m not really interested in self-harm,” she protested. When Sirius’s hand stilled and she glanced up at him to see him looking doubtful, she added, “All right, ignoring the evidence of confronting a Death Eater to the contrary, but that was to defend Harry, which you well know!”

Sirius’s eyebrows remained accusatory.

Her neck was starting to hurt, so she rolled over onto her back. “What’s with the skeptical eyebrows, Sirius? You don’t really think I’m cruising through this universe begging to be Avada’d, do you?”

This earned her his wide, brilliant grin. “No, but give it time,” he teased. “I do think you should stop thinking your inside knowledge is foolproof, though. Particularly if you’re making changes.”

“I’m making changes,” she said firmly. “And, okay, I hear you. But don’t think I’m going to take ‘don’t be reckless’ advice from  _ Sirius Black _ of all people without giving you shit for it!”

He stuck his tongue out at her. This cheeky action was a bit marred by the huge yawn he let out shortly afterwards, though. She opened her mouth to comment on the juxtaposition, but in true Sirius fashion, he clamped a hand over her lips to stop her. Elodie wanted to try to bite him, but decided to wait to hear his argument.

“I need to sleep. I’m guessing that your mood right now is fueled by pure outrage, and I shouldn’t expect Cuddly Elodie to appear tonight?”

Elodie was sure he could feel her smirk against the palm he held against her mouth. She arched an eyebrow up in his direction, and he lifted his hand so she could add commentary to her expressions.

_ “No one _ will be seeing Cuddly Elodie tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either.” She stood up and stretched her arms above her head as she looked around the room. The plan that had come to her mind just now was a bit ridiculous, and she was excited to implement it. She didn’t intend to imply any hidden meaning with the props she was going to use, though, so that meant it was a bad idea to grab any of her pillows or blankets from Sirius’s room. Whether Remus knew they were there was debatable, but she suspected he did. 

He was likely to be proud of the way he’d outmaneuvered her, and not having to worry about her sleeping without her own favorite bedclothes had almost certainly factored into that pride.

Sirius bumped her with his elbow and she looked over to see that he’d been stretching too. His lazy, loose-limbed movements were very attractive, and she  _ almost _ regretted her snap decision of minutes before. Almost, but not quite. While Sirius rubbed his face sleepily, she snuck her arms around him and kissed his chest right above his heart.

“Head on to bed, then. I’m going to camp out in the hallway and make our housemate trample me on his way to his room,” she said, her tone of voice colored more by anger than the affection she was trying to show Sirius. He kissed her head after her first comment, and she spun away from him shrugging when she spoke again. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be more charitable in the morning!” 

Elodie sighed and rolled her eyes at the whole situation. She started looking for a pillow she wouldn’t mind getting dirty from being laid on the floor. There was an irritated ache in her chest that felt accusatory, like her heart was telling her to be more forgiving. Sirius’s amused laughter helped to chase the feeling away, though.

“So I should cast a charm to block out the sound of yelling in the hallway so I can sleep in, you’re saying?” he called out to her in an amused voice from the hallway.

With her hands full of two pillows and three blankets, Elodie could barely see him over the pile as she walked over to stand in front of Remus’s locked and warded bedroom door.

“Definitely,” she said.

8888888888888888

Elodie slept fitfully. Despite the hallway not having windows of its own, the after midnight full moon shone through the living room windows quite brightly. She’d eventually charmed one blanket to attach to Remus’s doorknob and then draped the fabric over her face to block out the light. This had the added effect of ensuring that Remus would wake her up in the morning; she’d initially worried that he would somehow sneak past her despite her setup, but he would be too magically depleted to Apparate, and any movement of her blanket shield would probably wake her up.

She was right.

The blinding light of the morning sun hitting her face and Remus Lupin’s groan of frustration worked together to wake Elodie up.

“I’m convinced you could rival James Potter in stubbornness,” Remus said to her in exhausted irritation.

She couldn’t prevent the smile that this high compliment prompted. After rubbing her eyes for a few seconds, she sat up against the solid wood of his bedroom door. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, Remus. Thank you!”

Remus tipped his head sideways at her and looked reproachful. Elodie stopped combing her fingers through her hair and crossed her arms, allowing the smile to fall from her face to be replaced by an expression of the aforementioned stubbornness.

“I’m  _ tired. _ Can’t we-- No, never mind, I know the answer,” he muttered, leaning back against the wall opposite her.

“Seems like you would have been better served to have applied that kind of logic to your actions  _ last night,” _ Elodie said, looking up at him and trying not to notice the signs that hinted at a bad transformation. He had a bruise on his temple and a small rip in his right sleeve. The way the fabric around the rip clung to his arm told her that it had bled and dried, stuck to his skin.

“That’s shortsighted and you know it,” Remus snapped. “I’ve made a decision that you disagree with. The only person with faulty logic here is you, thinking that by virtue of wanting to do something, you can accuse me of being unfair. It’s  _ my life, _ and  _ my decision.” _

“If it’s solely your decision, you’d have no need to question Moony’s conduct, because you’d have control over it,” Elodie said quietly, not looking up to see his reaction to this. A movement caught her eye anyway, and she looked toward him to see that he’d slid down the wall to sit across from her. He looked entirely too sleepy to be sitting on the floor, and she felt a pang of guilt.

“And your conduct?” Remus said, just as quietly. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of the kind of contentment that he never displayed when he was actually content, only when he was trying to appear that way.

“Listen to yourself! What are you trying to accuse me of? Do you even know?” she demanded. His heavy sigh in response sounded contrived, like he thought she might feel badly enough thanks to this display of exhaustion that she’d let up, which made her feel even less like doing so. 

_ I really miss him, sometimes, _ Elodie thought to herself sadly. He was the same person, of course. The parts of his personality she liked most hadn’t been on display as much as they used to be, not anymore. Their mutual silence combined with these insights made her think of something.

“Look at it this way, Remus,” she said, launching into what she wanted to tell him as if she’d been speaking aloud that whole time. Elodie looked up at the ceiling, a bit afraid that she’d falter in her description if she watched Remus’s face while he listened to what she was saying. “What if there was a person who, because of a curse or something, were stuck in a situation where they were only able to talk or interact with other people for, say… thirty minutes a month.”

Elodie risked a peek at Remus and saw that he was looking at her with a wry little smile on his tired face.

“Now, what do you predict would happen if your friend Elodie Merriman found out about this cursed person?” she asked him.

Remus let out a short burst of laughter. “If my friend Elodie knew about a person cursed to only talk to other people for a half hour a month,” he said slowly, as if he were thinking while he was speaking. He’d avoided eye contact initially, but now he looked right at her. “She’d fight for him,” he sighed. His tone was resigned, but in a good-natured way. “Elodie Merriman would find a way to make sure he had the chance to talk, during those minutes. She’d probably be very angry with anyone who tried to stop her, as well.”

He fell silent and looked away, and Elodie waited for the rebuttal that was sure to come. She waited for quite a few minutes, long enough that she started to fold the blankets that she’d slept with in the hallway.

“I get it,” Remus said. Elodie shook the blanket to even up the way its fold lay and looked over at him. “I just don’t like the idea that you’re showing this kind of… how do I even put it?” He stood slowly and rubbed his face. “Proprietary interest in my alter-ego.”

“I do  _ not _ act like I own him!” she protested.

“On that we agree!” Remus said with no small amount of frustration. “Instead, you act like he ought to be  _ freed, _ and that as his jailor, I ought to be ashamed of myself.” He pointed to her, and she hated the added weight of the height disparity so much that she struggled to her feet to even things out. “It’s the opposite, Elodie. It’s his presence in my life that has chained  _ me _ to lycanthropy!”

Elodie threw her newest half-folded blanket on the floor between them. “Your hostility is driving me crazy!” she shouted at him. “You admit that my motivations make sense to you, but you’re still angry at me anyway!”

Suddenly, she understood what she was going to have to do, and the necessity of it made her throw her head back and let out a long sound of frustration. As usual for Elodie, it all came back to telling the truth, or as near a version of it as possible.

“All right, fine,” she said in a much calmer voice that drew his attention immediately. “Everything about your behavior is screaming that you think I’m hiding something, that I have some sort of ulterior motive for wanting to talk to Moony.” Elodie waited a few seconds, hoping he’d indicate whether she was right.

“Go on,” Remus nodded.

Elodie took a deep breath, screwed her eyes shut for a few seconds, and then opened her eyes and looked right at Remus. “You’re right, there’s something specific I want--I  _ need _ to talk to him about. But I’m not the one with an ulterior motive, all right? He is. His… actions have made that very clear,” she said, her strong, even tone faltering as she verbally danced around what she was trying to tell Remus. She looked down at her hands. “Given his… prior behavior, I wanted to tell Moony about my relationship with Sirius in person. I know that he’s somewhere in there, that he can  _ observe,  _ or whatever, but I still felt like talking to him, being honest and open about it… that’s important to me.”

Remus was silent, and she looked up at him nervously, her head tipped to the side like she could dodge whatever his reaction might be.

He looked utterly shocked.

Remus’s mouth was open and he looked like he was staring at her but it was more like he was staring  _ past _ her. As she watched him, he shook his head in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing.

Elodie leaned over and pulled the folded and unfolded blankets off of the floor, holding them to her chest as a kind of makeshift armor. Farther down the hallway, Sirius’s door slammed open.

“Are you two done, finally?” Sirius griped, stomping out of his room clad only in his typical sweatpants, his chest bare, arms held wide in mock outrage. “I may not believe in the almighty but I definitely believe in my God-given right to sleep in on a Sunday morning!”

“I’m--” Remus started, in a whisper. He cleared his throat, looking longingly at his bedroom door.

Elodie grabbed her two pillows and walked into the living room to dump them onto the back of the couch. The fact that Remus was still reacting with shock to what she’d implied about Moony made her very nervous.

Behind her, she heard a door open. “I’m going to sleep. I just-- I need to sleep,” Remus said.

Elodie stopped trying to keep everything from falling from the couch onto the floor and rushed back toward the hallway, but by the time she got there, Remus was inside his room and the door was shut.

_ “Shit,” _ she swore. She wanted more than anything to kick the door in anger, but that wouldn’t do much more than antagonize the person who was still, despite her honesty and very persuasive arguments, gatekeeping her access to Moony.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?”

“Sirius, I’m telling you this as a friend: you should know that people with punchable faces really ought to be more careful with their snark,” Elodie said, glaring at him.

“I went with ‘better than average reflexes’ instead, but that’s solid advice,” Sirius said, grinning at her.

“You are irrepressible,” Elodie said, reluctantly returning his smile. She turned to walk into the living room, finding that her precarious pile had not, in fact, collapsed into a blanket lahar. “It did not go well, no.” She sat down.

“As predictable as that was, screaming and all,” Sirius said, walking around to stand in front of her with a frown on his face, “--I feel like letting it go now is just ignoring the Snitch, at this point. It’s not resolving anything.”

“Another Quidditch saying! Is that what Krum should have done? Ignore the Snitch, let Bulgaria score a bit more, then catch it when they’d win?” Elodie asked, yawning.

“Yes, in a final. It’s rare that anyone in the crowd can see well enough to know what’s happening, even more rare to disagree with the Seeker on the choice-- and, are you trying to distract me?” Sirius had been in as close to ‘lecture mode’ as she’d ever seen him, and it was definitely adorable. He crossed his arms and looked down at her disapprovingly, and Elodie threw herself sideways on the couch, half hoping to trigger her blanket avalanche to save her. Sirius would not appreciate the huge grin on her face prompted by how much she loved both his ‘Quidditch lecturer’ and ‘cross look’ modes. When the blankets didn’t oblige her, she hid her face in the side of the couch for a few seconds.

“You’re making that face you make when you like my expression,” Sirius said. “Which is confusing because I know you’re not a fan of Quidditch. Or grumpiness! But I, for one, am well rested. So I’m going to sit the two of you down and get this all cleared up, and neither of you are going to stop me, because you got shitty sleep, and I’m a manipulative bastard.”

Elodie rolled over onto her back to face him, but he’d already walked out of sight. “Wait! No, honestly, he won, okay? He got into his room, he needs his sleep.  _ Sirius!” _

His voice came from somewhere behind the couch. “So you’re saying you slept in front of his bedroom door to make him talk to you, but all he had to do to defeat you was to make it inside? That’s bullshit!” 

Elodie lifted herself up onto her elbows, starting to get up, but Sirius leaned over the couch to talk to her, knocking down the blankets. She fell back and managed to free her face, but the pile blocked Sirius from her sight, still.

“I am not going to let him get away without  _ any _ conversation, I just--”

Sirius muttered something as she spoke, and suddenly she was silenced. A second and another spell later, and Elodie’s arms were stuck above her head where she’d been holding the blankets away from her face so she could breathe.

She couldn’t even glare at him, because she was essentially entombed in blankets!

“I know you’re angry, don’t worry. I can picture the exact face you’re making, but Elodie, I just--” Sirius sighed. “I can’t let the two people I love most in the world keep talking past each other. I have a rule. Wherever I live, the amount of joking with each other has to be higher than the uncomfortable silences.”

Elodie couldn’t hear him walk away from her because he was barefoot, but she couldn’t imagine that his steps could be faster than the pounding sound of her heartbeat in her head.  _ Sirius just said he loved her. _ She was stunned, elated, and terrified. He was fighting battles for her, but what a battle to start with! Remus’s hatred of his own lycanthropy was epic and ingrained, and she’d be  _ happy _ if getting him to let her speak to Moony against his better judgment turned out to be as easy as talking to a brick wall instead of a steel-reinforced one.

She was gratified that Sirius would even try, but at the same time, he’d silenced and paralyzed her right before he was about to start what was definitely going to develop into an argument. Would he remember to undo those spells before he spun into an anger fit? Didn’t he realize she was the one who usually talked him down from those?

Elodie would have physically jumped in surprise at the sound of Sirius banging knocks on Remus’s door if she hadn’t been paralyzed in place by his spells.

“It’s not bedtime yet, Remus! Get out here!”

The pounding didn’t stop until Elodie had counted almost forty Mississippis in her head.

Remus’s door opened widely, banging on the wall and then creaking as it always did as it rebounded.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t turn you into a frog and go back to bed, Sirius!” Remus said in a tone that sounded less angry than she would have expected. It was still plenty irritated, though.

“Because out of the four of us you were the most shit at animal transfiguration, which was completely hilarious, honestly,” Sirius said. There was a few seconds of silence during which Elodie held her breath. There was poking the bear, and then there was poking an exhausted werewolf…

“Look, if I promise not to punch you in the face and add on a mandatory session of ‘here’s why Remus is being an asshole’ with Elodie, will you let me sleep?” Remus finally asked quietly.

“Punch me all you want,” Sirius said. “You’ll probably need some sleep to manage it, though.”

There was a meaty ‘smack’ sound, and Elodie’s eyes widened and she caught her breath.

“That was--”

“Your shoulder, yes. I didn’t miss, for the record,” Remus said. There was a thread of amusement in his tone of voice that helped Elodie’s heart rate start inching back toward normal. “Before I start aiming higher or lower, tell me why  _ now _ happens to be the time you’re so determined to butt in?”

“You’re not yourself. And before you start in with the logic and the whole ‘you were gone for over ten years,’ I get it. But I’d like to think there are some Remus-y things that a decade and a half without me can’t erase. Don’t shake your head at me! I saw them only a few  _ months _ ago, Moony. Then I see you arguing with Ellie and it hit me. It’s got to be her. You two got, I don’t know. Misaligned, somehow.” There was a few seconds of silence, and Elodie’s heart boomed in her own ears as she waited for Remus’s reaction. “What happened, man?” Sirius’s voice sounded sad.

Even yards away, Remus’s deep, long sigh in response was audible to Elodie.

“I’ll say this once, and only to you,” Remus said. His voice was shaking a little, but he wasn’t yelling. “I made decisions when I was very young about what my life was going to be like. Some of them were naive-- even werewolves can’t spend all their days in seclusion, not without losing their humanity. I also hadn’t counted on you, James, and Peter.”

Remus stopped for a long moment, and a tear slipped out of the corner of Elodie’s eye and fell unimpeded into her ear.

“Other decisions seem to get even more important as the years pass. I won’t ever be a father. I won’t get married. I won’t-- Don’t look at me like that, Sirius. This is important. This isn’t just  _ my _ life! I’m not going to inflict this, this  _ misery _ onto anyone else!” Remus’s voice had gotten louder as he spoke, and Elodie could just imagine the skepticism that must have been obvious on Sirius’s face as he’d listened to his best friend speak so disparagingly about himself.

“You’re off track. What does any of this have to do with--” Sirius demanded loudly.

“I didn’t expect to meet someone I’d--” Remus was shouting, but he cut himself off and started again in a quieter voice that had the same kind of violent intensity as he’d had when he was yelling. “Elodie is everything I would have wanted. Everything I _do_ want. Everything I _can_ _not_ let myself destroy. I’ve been meticulous in holding myself back, and I don’t think there’s any way to bring myself to apologize for the way that’s made me distant. It’s necessary.” 

Black spots started dancing in Elodie’s eyes, and she realized that she’d been holding her breath. She gulped in air, and the amount of adrenaline that coursed through her system triggered by Remus’s glorious, painful words was doubled, nearly tripled due to her fear that the sound of her gasps might be overheard. She wanted to replay his words in her head, but she knew he wasn’t finished arguing with Sirius.

What else would he say??

Remus chuckled, but it was a wry, sardonic sound. “Then I hear her imply that Moony has shown some kind of attraction! The wolf! The  _ very reason _ I can’t ever--”

A sudden crashing boom echoed through the house.

_ “Shit, _ that was almost my  _ head!” _ Sirius squeaked.

“Most of the time I can tell the difference between your head and the wall, Padfoot, never fear,” Remus said, full-on laughing now. There was a hollowness to the sound of it that made her heart ache.

“You’ve gone mad and your hand is a mess. You  _ do  _ know you’re supposed to cast a protection charm on your hand  _ before _ you straight up punch through a wall, right?” Sirius said, also laughing.

“This from the man who had punched three walls by the age of twenty-one?” Remus retorted.  _ “Without _ casting protection first. Which, yes, would have been a great idea, because ouch.  _ Shit.” _

If it were possible to cast spells wandlessly, silently, and without moving a muscle, Elodie would have been up and on her way into the hall to help Remus by now. Someone made a hissing sound of pain, and Elodie realized she could hear Sirius’s voice speaking in a low voice. Knowing him, he was casting spells to heal Remus’s hand, but she still really wanted to be able to help. 

Even though she was definitely the last person Remus Lupin would want to be faced with right now.

“James, Peter, and I really wanted you to be able to do anything you wanted with your life, you know,” Sirius said.

“I know.”

“Being able to love someone is one of those things.”

“I can’t.”

“Not wanting to let yourself do something and being incapable of doing something are two very different things, Remus,” Sirius said. “There. Good as new, and I don’t think it’ll hurt any more than they did when the full moon rose and fell last night.”

“Thank you. For everything; perhaps especially taking care of her,” Remus said, his words so quiet that Elodie had almost missed them.

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m happy, and  _ she’s _ happy, but  _ fuck, _ Moony! If you’d said something…” Sirius’s voice was gravelly and furious.

“What are you trying to say? That you’d have behaved differently?  _ Please,” _ Remus asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“She’s attracted to you, you complete idiot! She made that perfectly clear,” Sirius shouted. 

“You love her!” Remus shouted back at Sirius. “You  _ should!” _

Elodie’s blood froze. Sirius had shouted the exact same thing to  _ her _ the day he’d kissed her in front of Remus.

“So should you! As evidenced by your other self, I imagine. Look,” Sirius said, sounding tired for the first time since Elodie had heard them start to argue. “I had every intention of gluing the two of you to opposite sides of this hallway and force you to talk, but I get it, this is too complicated for brute force. But the last thing I want to picture is the idea that my girlfriend is going to fall in love with me only because the man she should be with instead has fucked with his personality to keep that from happening.”

The pain and possible truth of that statement hit Elodie like a punch to the wall.

There wasn’t a way for her to yell out that he was (oh, please, be) wrong, wrong,  _ wrong. _

She couldn’t even shake her head to refute it.

“That’s…” Remus’s voice cut through Elodie’s shocked haze. “That’s fair,” he sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sirius. I don’t want to hurt Elodie. You have no idea how hard it was to turn away from her when she thought she--”

“You are both the smartest man I’ve ever met, and the  _ stupidest,” _ Sirius interrupted. “Go on, punch me instead of the wall, you left your wand in the bedroom, I’d wager,” he said in a growly, bitter sounding voice. “That won’t make your fantasy about how Elodie couldn’t possibly have any real feelings for you any more true. If you only knew…”

“What do you want me to do, Sirius?” Remus interrupted in a low voice.

“Right now I want you to get some sleep. In the morning, I want you to act like the Marauder you are, not the boring, humorless, miserable person you think you should be. We’ll all adjust just fine, I promise.”

There was a long silence, during which Elodie alternated which piece of information prompted her to be the most emotionally overwhelmed.

Then, she heard the click of a door being shut.

Seconds later, she felt the weight of a person collapsing onto the couch at her feet.

“Well,  _ that _ backfired,” Sirius said conversationally.

It was quite difficult to laugh hysterically when one was magically frozen in place, but Elodie managed quite well. She did a good enough job that the couch shook a bit, which thankfully reminded Sirius of the spells he’d cast on her. He ended them in a sheepish voice, and the first thing Elodie did was shove the blankets all the way away from her face so she could take a deep breath of the open air again.

The second thing she did was conjure up a hand towel to  _ dry her ears. _

“Is there some kind of symbolism I’m missing?” Sirius asked, watching her.

“Some of that was emotional. Ever cried while lying on your back?” she asked, twirling the corner of the towel and rubbing at her left ear.

“Oh, yuck, yes. That’s the  _ worst _ feeling! All of that wetness in your--”

Elodie liked to think that her calm, even gaze was even scarier than a temper tantrum, sometimes. Sirius seemed to think it was effective, anyway. He ushered her into his bedroom as soon as she was finished with her hand towel, and even promised she’d be able to sleep as long as she needed to.

It wasn’t until she woke up around lunch time that Elodie realized that Sirius had probably done that to avoid talking about what they’d both heard, but by then, she was well rested and more understanding.

Which had probably been Sirius’s plan all along.

 


	44. Nothing Set In Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus calls an emergency Order of the Phoenix meeting at Phoenix House, and Elodie finds that her worries about Tonks might have been too hasty. Are the changes that are being wrought a comfort or a concern for her, now that they're already put in motion?

 

When Elodie opened her eyes next, it was with a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her system that made her confused, until the hunger hit her.

She sat up, and there was a gentle tap at the door. “Come in?”

Sirius came in and smiled to see that she was awake. “You look a lot less like a homeless squib, excellent,” he remarked.

“I feel like one, though. Pretty sure I woke myself up with a stomach growl,” she said.

“I made sandwiches. Can’t vouch for their edibility, but I haven’t heard Remus choke in the last minute or two, so it’s worth a try?” 

“Did you use the sweet bread for them this time?” she asked, sliding out of bed and pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

“That was  _ one time, _ witch!” he growled, catching her hips with his hands as she walked past. He turned her to face him and stole a quick kiss. “Let up!”

“It was one time because I’ve carefully reminded you by not letting up, Sirius,” Elodie told him with a cheerful grin. “When my tastebuds forget, I’ll stop.”

A devilish expression came over his features, and Elodie held up a hand. “I am pretty sure I can figure out the gist of your next comment without your even voicing it. No need to steal the innocence from any children who live within a fifty kilometer radius.”

“Mean,” he accused, but she headed out the door after a flick of her wand changed the color of her shirt to be purple instead of blue. She knew that Remus knew she slept in the master bedroom more times than not, nowadays, but she didn’t feel like being blindingly obvious today.

The fact that she was wearing day clothes instead of nightclothes turned out to be fortuitous. As soon as she entered the hallway, Elodie heard Albus’s voice. It turned out he was in the fireplace talking to Remus, and she turned to lift her eyebrows at Sirius.

“Didn’t I mention?” he said with wide-eyed faux innocence.

“Elodie, I was just telling Remus that I’ve called a last-minute meeting of the Order before the Task tomorrow,” Albus said, preventing her from responding to her adorably infuriating boyfriend.

“Good plan,” she told Albus.

“Right, then. We’ll all see you after dinner, say, seven? Until then!” Albus said before pulling his head out of the fire on his side.

“So the meeting is here, then,” Elodie said in a dull voice. She looked around the living room with the eye of someone who was expecting guests. She didn’t like the view. “That’s--”

“It’ll be fine,” Remus said. “We’ll just, I don’t know, turn everything that’s out of place into a chair.” He looked over at her with a playful grin. “I’ll sit on any of them as long as it didn’t used to be the typewriter!”

“No way am I turning a key part of your livelihood into a chair. You can just swap it with the chair in your room, instead,” Elodie said to Remus, shaking her head.

Sirius picked up his scarf. “Please tell me I can turn this into a beanbag and make Moody sit in it. I will promise anything in return!” he said, clutching the scarf to his chest. “Lunch duty for a week?”

_ “Not _ lunch duty for a week?” Remus said, levitating his typewriter and its stand in front of him and frowning good-naturedly at Sirius.

8888888888888888

Elodie totally didn’t make sandwiches for dinner  _ solely _ to show Sirius how much better she was at making them.

Even though she totally was.

It was mostly because it’s easier to rush around straightening up and transfiguring things into comfortable-looking chairs if you can carry your dinner around with you.

8888888888888888

Elodie was downstairs getting dressed after her shower when the first guests arrived. There was no mistaking Moody’s vocal cadence, nor Albus’s tone of greeting, even through the floorboards of the house. The sounds of a woman’s voice she didn’t recognize prompted Elodie to hurry. She tossed on a flowy black skirt and embroidered golden shirt, cast a quick gentle drying spell on her hair, and ran upstairs.

“Elodie!” Moody said with a large, slightly frightening smile on his face. She skidded to a shocked halt upon seeing it. Her expression apparently was amusing enough for even Albus to burst into laughter along with Moody.

“I told you she would be more alarmed than encouraged, Alastor,” Albus said to the ex-Auror.

“Good!” Moody boomed. “Constant vigilance!”

“Yeah, it’s fine, retraumatize the new girl, I see how it is,” Elodie groused. “Did anyone come with you two? I thought I heard someone else.”

“Nymphadora Tonks. Black took her outside the second he laid eyes on her,” Moody explained.

Elodie went over to the picture window and noted the distinct lack of hippogriff. “I assume that if you can refer to him simply as ‘Black,’ that you’ve been told about his innocence?” she said to Moody.

He nodded. “Had a meeting about that in Albus’s office before we came. McGonagall’s still there with some others, yet.” Moody narrowed his eyes and cocked his head sideways as he looked at her intently. He lifted his hand and made a circle with one finger pointed at her, the unspoken question writ plain on his face.

“Relief. If I’m making a strange expression, it’s probably relief that we don’t have to put Remus through the ordeal of explaining everything again. It was… rough on him last time,” Elodie explained. “Have you two spoken to him yet?”

“No.” Albus shook his head. “He headed into the Floo shortly after we arrived. He said he would be back before the meeting started.”

“The Floo?” Elodie said in surprise. “I figured he was out with Sirius and his cousin.” She had figured that, but hadn’t let herself dwell on it at all. The idea that she’d probably missed one of their first meetings wasn’t a pleasant thought. Add to that the revelation from Remus that morning, and Elodie’s choice of sitting in a room with both Remus and Tonks half a day after hearing him say Elodie was the perfect woman for him was only slightly less awful than  _ not _ sitting in the meeting and observing their every interaction.

_ Sirius Black, _ Elodie reminded herself.  _ You’re in love with Sirius Black. You ought to tell him that, too. Verbally, not just with baked goods. _

Shortly after she’d spoken, the Floo roared to life again, and the three of them backed up to give the next visitors enough space. Elodie was grateful that this had the effect of distracting both Moody and Dumbledore from noticing any more odd facial expressions on her part.

Then, she saw who walked through, and she forgot about everything but greeting them.

“Charlie!” Elodie exclaimed, grinning. Then, before his parents could feel too left out, she added, “Arthur and Molly, it’s lovely to see you.”

“Elodie, hello! Thanks for your Owl right after Christmas,” Charlie Weasley told her with a warm smile. His clothes were decidedly more presentable than they had been the first time they met, and she told him so. “Before she has a chance to tell you, that’s all on Mum. She’s got some secret spell that strips out all the smoke damage from my clothes. If it weren’t for that, I’d stink up your lovely room just by sitting in it, no matter how many times I wash them myself!”

“You don’t tell a woman about who does your  _ laundry, _ Charles Weasley!” Molly hissed at him in a horrified whisper.

“Mum, Elodie’s not… I mean, she’s a  _ woman, _ but--” Charlie stuttered in apology and explanation, and Elodie walked over and placed her hand right over his mouth to stop him.

“Molly, I think what he’s trying to say is that there are various kinds of women in this world, and I’m the kind that he doesn’t mind knowing his Mum does his laundry sometimes,” Elodie said, moving her hand before Charlie had the chance to move it himself.

“Oh,” Molly said, not even bothering to hide her disappointment.

“Didn’t Dumbledore say she and Sirius are…” Arthur murmured to his wife, gesturing to two seats nearby with one hand and making an odd sort of gesture with his other hand.

Elodie was suddenly quite grateful that Arthur had a use for his second hand, because she wasn’t sure what kind of symbolic gestures he’d have made with two. She walked closer to the front window to look for Sirius, Buckbeak, and Tonks.

“I should have bitten your hand; you should know it’s high praise that I didn’t,” Charlie murmured in her ear.

Elodie turned to smile at her freckled friend. “I’m glad you didn’t, it would have given your mother even  _ more _ ideas,” she teased. This earned her an eye roll.

“It’s not usually this bad,” he told her. “It’s just that, with the visit for the Task --to see Ron along with the rest of the family I missed for the First Task, I mean-- she’s gotten it into her head that Bill and I will be confirmed bachelors if she doesn’t get involved. I think her most quotable moment was when she said, ‘You’re a  _ dragon tamer, _ for Merlin’s sake, Charlie! How difficult can this possibly be?’”

“It does seem like a romance novel kind of profession,” Elodie said.

“Oh, it is,” he said with a confident kind of smile that made her pulse jump despite herself. “I have to be very careful, though. My ladies can get very jealous, and their talons are sharper than any witch’s claws.” 

Elodie immediately understood the difference between ladies and witches. “The dragons can scent them on you?”

He nodded and rolled up his loose button-down shirt to show her a curved scar on the skin of his forearm, just by his elbow. It looked painful, even healed.

“Tell the truth,” Elodie said, narrowing her eyes teasingly. “Could this have healed without a mark?”

His warm smile was infectious. “Yes and no. This deep? Not actually necessary nowadays. I  _ may _ have made a tactical decision to allow it to heal poorly in solidarity with my predecessors across the ages.”

“I’ll be honest. It would have worked on me, if you were my type,” Elodie told him. Just as she said this, Buckbeak landed outside, and Elodie and Charlie watched as the two riders dismount.

Charlie nodded at the scene out the window. “Those scars are probably a bit more deep than mine, you know,” he said gently.

Elodie glanced over to see where Molly was. She was deep in conversation with Minerva and Arthur, so Elodie turned back to smile at Charlie before kissing his shoulder gently.

“Thanks for the concern. And for being short enough that I can do that without straining my legs,” she told him. “I could wax poetic about picking who we love, but…”

“I get it,” Charlie said. “Just tell me if he needs any more scars, and I’ll oblige.”

Elodie threw on her scarf and patted her chest over her heart in answer to Charlie’s offer. Then, she went outside into the chilly winter evening.

“If you’re going to be giving out hippogriff rides like candy to all of our visitors, I’m going to have to pretend to move out just to get one!” she told Sirius once she got close enough for him to hear her. She tipped her head down in respect to Buckbeak, and was rewarded with a loving head butt that was juuust this side of too powerful.

“You know that Bucky would take you up anytime, don’t you?” Sirius said, patting the creature’s neck. Elodie wasn’t even mad at him for missing the point she was trying to make about  _ guided _ hippogriff tours of the countryside, since she had been a bit subtle, after all. “Tonks, this is Elodie. Elodie, my cousin Tonks,” he said, turning toward the short woman standing beside him and gesturing to Elodie and the woman in turn.

“Hello, lovely to meet you,” Elodie said. Ideally she’d have thought up a middle-ground answer that had less to do with how delighted she was to meet the person Remus Lupin was supposed to marry and more to do with how it was great to meet a relative of Sirius’s, but she had yet again failed to prepare herself.

Elodie forced herself to take a deep breath of the frosty air and get a  _ fucking grip. _

Nymphadora Tonks’s grip was firm in the handshake. “Wotcher! I didn’t know about you before today, Elodie, but I’m pleased to meet you!” The handshake and happy look on her face faltered, and Tonks frowned. “I meant that I didn’t know Sirius was in a relationship-- or that he was innocent, for that matter, but--”

_ “Fuck, _ Dora, I forgot how easily you can put your foot in it,” Sirius said, laughing so hard he leaned over to put his hands on his knees for a few seconds. “I should have guessed something like that was going to happen when you got down off of Buckbeak without falling on your face!” 

The bubblegum pink hair that Elodie had loved so much in the books faded almost bone-white for a few seconds as Tonks put her hands on her hips and glared at Sirius.

Once again, Elodie’s foreknowledge of the books presented her with a chance to win favor with someone she didn’t technically know. She took it.

“Wow, did your hair just change color?” Elodie asked. Her impressed tone of voice wasn’t feigned at all, because watching that happen in real time (even when you knew it was a thing) was  _ seriously cool. _ “Are you a Metamorphmagus?”

Tonks’s arms came up from her waist into a hand clasp under her chin. “You’ve heard of Metamorphs?” she asked, her eyes almost sparkling with delight. “I mean, we’re not studied at Hogwarts, or all that, but cor,” she stopped talking and just grinned at Elodie. “I might just skip being suspicious of this one,” she said to Sirius.

“You won’t regret it, at least, I don’t think you will,” Sirius said, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders to steer them toward the house. “I’ve only ever seen her with Molly, I don’t actually know if she’s a bitch around other women.”

“My boyfriend, ladies and hippogriffs,” Elodie said sardonically.

Tonks laughed so hard she tripped on the third step up to the door.

When they walked into the house, Elodie saw that the rest of the Order had arrived. The ride on Buckbeak seemed to have been the exact right choice for Sirius, as he was less on edge than he had been earlier at the prospect of seeing everyone. That was a good thing, because everyone who didn’t already know what had really happened with Peter Pettigrew were keen to shake his hand or clap his shoulder and express their happiness in having learned about his innocence. Elodie left them to it, and headed into the kitchen to collect her various House mugs and such, so she could at least offer everyone tea or something, since she hadn’t had time to bake anything.

The kitchen was full of baked goods despite this, however.

Elodie stood in the doorway and stared at the full serving tray of various cookie/biscuit things, noting the still-closed and folded over edges of at least two other brown bags with a bakery logo on them.

“Earth to Elodie?” Remus said, and she blinked a few times before she saw him standing in front of the sink drying his hands.

“You--” she started.

“--went to pick up some things that you could have made yourself, if you’d have had enough time to. I hope you don’t mind?” he interrupted. The easygoing apology in his voice made her throat constrict a little. He was so relentlessly kind that it  _ hurt _ , sometimes.

“It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful,” she said before she could stop herself. His eyes widened a little, but the smile didn’t drop from his face as she would have expected. Elodie still cleared her throat and made a goofy face of embarrassment for both of their sakes. “Oops. You are, though. Thank you bunches?”

“You are very welcome. Would you rather offer them out or set up tray number two?” he asked.

Elodie tried not to blink at him in surprise. His behavior was the complete opposite of what she’d expected from the man she’d argued with that morning, not to mention the man who’d mostly avoided both she and Sirius all afternoon.

_ Something something look a gift horse in the mouth??? _ her Inner Elodie prodded, and she smiled at Remus.

“I’d let you pick, but I can picture your uncomfortable expression before I even offer,” she teased. “I’ll set up tray number two. I don’t want to take credit for the bakery’s hard work. Or yours.”

“That’s reasonable,” Remus said. He lifted the tray and waited for her to walk over so he could move past her without knocking into her with it. At the doorway, he turned and tipped his head to the side, an impish expression on his face. “I didn’t even look for my favorite biscuits when I was there, as per your instructions!” Then, before he could see the look of abject relief on her face, he walked out into the living room.

“I could have guessed  _ that, _ heh,” Elodie said, drawing in a huge sigh and letting it out slowly, careful not to breathe all over the baked treats Remus had bought.

It didn’t take long to set out the rest of the tray, and Elodie followed Remus to the living room within five minutes. Her favorite spot on the couch was empty, and Tonks, Charlie, and Arthur were sitting on the rest of it. She took a few seconds to swear at the entire concept of a universe that was searching for plot points so diligently that it would place Tonks  _ right next to her, _ but sat down in ‘her’ spot anyway. Molly cast a Hovering Hostess charm on Elodie’s tray, and it floated out of the circle with its twin, just close enough that they could be called over to satisfy anyone’s sweet tooth. 

The room was full of people, but it didn’t feel cramped as much as cosy. Elodie suspected this wouldn’t be the case in the height of summer, though.

“Well, thank you all for coming at such short notice,” Albus said from his seat in front of the hearth.

“It took a lot of doing, but I managed,” Sirius joked. Everyone laughed.

“Most of you know each other, if not in person than by reputation. The only person I am not sure whether everyone knows is Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Albus said when the chuckles died down. He gestured to a calm-looking black man seated beside Molly on a chair that used to be a drawer from a dresser in the basement. Kingsley lifted a hand and nodded with a thin smile, looking from face to face without embarrassment. Elodie liked him immediately; she knew that he had political leanings, and had wondered if the ‘real’ Shacklebolt would come across as an obvious pleaser. The easy confidence he seemed to exude instead was instantly likeable.

“You were my year at Hogwarts, but in Gryffindor. Charlie, right?” Tonks said to the man seated beside her.

“Got it in one,” he winked.

Tonks raised an eyebrow at Charlie, and across the room, Sirius cough-laughed. This led to a bit of cross-talk among the other Order members, so Elodie’s retort was lost to most of the room, but not to Charlie.

“Your mom might be right to worry,” Elodie whispered at him in the space behind where Tonks was leaning forward saying something to Moody.

“I already have a nagging sister, that position is not available,” he snarked back.

“On to the business of the evening,” Albus said in a quiet voice that was still commanding enough to cut through their chatter. “Alastor and I have been examining the various options for why Tom chose to place a spy at Hogwarts. Today, I made the decision to share with him the details I just learned about the Second Task for the Tournament, and we both agreed that it’s very possible that tomorrow’s Task may be the reason for Tom’s interference. What I am about to share with you is in the strictest of confidence,” he told them in a severe voice that brooked no possibility of betrayal.

“I want to say,” Sirius leaned forward and looked up at Albus, his head cocked sideways so that his hair obscured a good deal of his face. Elodie recognized immediately that this was because he was a bit unsure, but it was Sirius, so he continued speaking anyway. “I’ve been talking with Harry over Owls about this Task. I can’t promise we haven’t figured out anything we weren’t meant to,” he said, looking down. “I  _ can _ say I won’t share anything I learn tonight. But if I get an Owl tomorrow morning first thing, I’m not ignoring it just because I know things that Harry shouldn’t.” At this, Sirius sat up and threw his hair back with both hands. His grey eyes shone bright and challenging. “I’m good with heading out for a walk if you need me to.”

Remus was within arm’s reach of him, and he leaned over to squeeze Sirius’s shoulder.

“I trust you, Sirius Black,” Albus said firmly. Then, he simply continued speaking, and the lack of further discussion was such a powerful statement in and of itself that Elodie felt a lump growing in her throat as she saw the various Order members looking at each other and then nodding in respect at Sirius. For his part, Sirius blinked a lot for the next few minutes.

If text messages had existed in 1994, Elodie would have totally texted Sirius to ask if anyone was cutting onions.

The gist of what Albus had to say was that the Second Task involved the three Headmasters choosing a person who was important to each of the Champions. This group of people were to be magically protected and placed in the lake, ostensibly ‘in peril,’ to be rescued. As soon as he revealed this fact, Molly cottoned on to the problem immediately-- Ron was the closest living human being to Harry Potter. After many reassurances, they were able to move on to the second, more unexpected (to everyone but Elodie, of course) bombshell: Hermione Granger had been chosen as the person closest to Viktor Krum.

_ This _ had been the instigator for the Order meeting. There was an agreement among the Headmasters that the person in peril needed to be somewhat helpless in their own right; an adult wouldn’t be in a position to give up their wand for pretty much any reason, and with it, they could hardly be considered helpless. Fleur Delacour’s little sister was chosen, despite the fact that she had to be ‘shipped in’ from France. Krum, though, had hardly anyone who could be considered as fitting the criterion, but Albus felt that Karkaroff was being very cagey about this.

Albus wasn’t mincing words. “The bottom line is, Harry shouldn’t even be involved--”

“You’re damn right about that!” Sirius burst out.

“--and now, his two closest friends have now been placed in at least a mild amount of danger as a result. We would be foolish to ignore this completely.”

“The Tournament is judged with point values, isn’t that right?” Arthur asked, his voice shaking a little bit with concern. When Albus nodded, he went on; “How about a guard, underwater? Whoever it is can contribute their opinions on point values, as to the clean-ness of the rescue, and if it’s one of us-- no, dearest, not either one of  _ us, _ I wouldn’t put you through that, and I know you wouldn’t put me… I love you too, Molly, darling.” Arthur kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand. He looked around the room. “I would trust any one of you to do this. Albus, I’m asking you to keep Ron safe, keep every one of these hostages safe, and in doing that you keep the reputation of Hogwarts safe too.”

“Oh, Arthur,” Albus said, standing up and walking over. He pressed an encouraging hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You don’t have to use Hogwarts as incentive. Your son is worthy of protection no matter what. Yes, Harry is a priority for me, but keeping Ron safe would be important even if he and Harry Potter were mortal enemies.” 

“Who are the original guards?” Tonks asked after a few seconds of silent contemplation around the room. “I mean, there were some planned out more than a day in advance by someone, I assume?”

“The Merfolk have agreed to assist, yes.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a mermaid,” Tonks said brightly. “I volunteer.”

“They’re mostly naked, you know,” Charlie whispered. “And ugly.”

“Everyone aspires to be what they’re not,” Tonks said with a toss of her pink-haired head.

Elodie had been lucky enough to be looking in their direction when this exchange happened, and the spark of interest on Charlie’s face was completely fascinating. The fact that  _ Tonks  _ might have caught the look was even more fascinating. Tonks’s head actually jerked in surprise, and even though the other woman was faced away from her, Elodie felt sure she’d seen the expression on Charlie’s face. Elodie had just met her that day, but she could already picture the expression of speculation that might be showing on Tonks’s face.

Charlie, for his part, had started a slow, lazy grin that just  _ had _ to be in response to the nonverbal interaction the two of them had just had. Elodie totally recognized how sexy it was, even as a person struggling mightily with the fact that she was in love with two completely different men.

If the recipient of that smile had been anyone other than Nymphadora Tonks, Elodie would have declared her doomed. As it was, she just hoped she’d get to observe at least  _ some _ of the ensuing chaos.

By the end of the meeting, the expanded Order of the Phoenix had decided that they would position members throughout the area of the lake and platform so that someone could intervene if anything threatened the lives of the participants. They agreed that stationing Order members at regular intervals with ward spells to prevent anyone from sneaking into the lake would be the least disruptive option. Elodie felt a bit off-balance when it came to these plans. She knew the real reason for Crouch’s deception, and while this wasn’t it, she’d foiled that plan. There was no way of knowing if there existed any contingency plans that had triggered after Moody’s rescue.

Elodie was proud of Remus’s contribution to the discussion. He’d stood up to teach them all about a couple of spells that let a person move around underwater without fear of drowning, particularly in situations where they might be dueling. His approach was a layering one-- a saboteur would be expecting that a spell to strip away water breathing or something similar would end the confrontation immediately, and therefore the best way to combat that expectation was to have multiple spells layered on top of each other, kicking in seamlessly if one was dislodged. Elodie had surprised herself with the realization that this was the first time she’d seen Remus teaching in person. He was good at it.

He was also good at avoiding looking frustrated when first Sirius, then Charlie and finally  _ Minerva _ heckled him a bit about testing the spells they’d learned from him.

Apparently there had been a tense moment during the Marauders’ Sixth Year Transfiguration class where the end result of a flooded classroom was narrowly averted. The dry tone with which McGonagall completely destroyed Remus’s mildly uncomfortable facial expression was the icing on the heckle cake, but it was  _ Sirius _ who came out on top in Elodie’s humble opinion.

“Mr. Lupin, I do believe you promised me that you’d have a drain installed in every residence after that rather unfortunate experience you and James Potter had in Sixth Year?”

There were a few seconds of amused silence before Sirius muttered, “Oh, he has one today.”

_ “Do share?” _ Minerva said, her lips curving into a rare, disturbing-looking smile.

“It’s… erm.” Sirius shook his head.

“I absolutely insist. You’ve had little chance for triumphant quips and barbs over the past years, have you not?”

Sirius squared his shoulders and sat up with a resigned look on his face. “I was implying  _ you _ were the drain, ma’am,” he admitted. 

_ “Me?” _ Minerva’s schoolmarm shock was precise and biting. “I am afraid I simply don’t follow. In what way could I be viewed as draining?”

“I’m sure Azkaban would be happy to welcome you back, if you’d rather run,” Arthur told Sirius sympathetically.

“No, I made my bed, I’ll lie in it,” Sirius said. “We all come face to face with the reality of our crushes on teachers at some point in our lives. Today is the day for me. I should have expected I would never get up to any level of equality with mine!” Despite the look of resignation on Sirius’s face, the impish expression was still hovering under the surface, and this latest revelation actually seemed to shake Minerva’s confidence ever so slightly. She blinked away her look of utter surprise and gestured to Sirius to continue. “I was implying that you, ma’am, were a drain on the humor in the room. I see the flaw in my logic now. I’ll never have a chance with you without at least half your sense of dignity.”

“Your  _ girlfriend _ might find something to say about that,” Minerva sniffed.

“I’m honestly not worried, now that I know the key quality is dignity,” Elodie quipped.

“It’s not very kind to joke about that, Sirius, dear,” Molly said reproachfully. Sirius’s hand flew to his chest in a gesture of defense that Elodie knew immediately was only half-faked. He and Remus had spoken about his crush on McGonagall in the past, she remembered.

“He’s definitely not joking,” both Elodie and Remus said at the same time. They looked over at each other, holding the look of embarrassment for a split second before both bursting into laughter. The rest of the room soon followed.

“On that note, I believe we are ready to adjourn,” Albus said, standing. He opened his arms expansively and smiled, the expression an odd mixture of determination and fondness. “We can’t know what tomorrow’s Task will bring when it comes to Tom’s plans. We are, however, vastly better prepared for it than we were at this time yesterday. Sleep well. Come to Hogwarts early tomorrow morning and we will decide where everyone will be stationed.”

Everyone stood and began speaking to each other in small groups. Elodie walked over to stand in front of Sirius, crossing her arms and smiling lovingly at him.

“I have another late meeting to attend. This one was far less dour than I had expected,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, reaching for the Floo powder. “I’m pleased to have met almost all of you!” he added with a twist of his lips. Before any of them could come up with a suitable retort, the fire flashed green, and he was gone. Elodie looked forward to talking to him sometime.

One by one, almost everyone left, until only Tonks and Charlie remained. Sirius had been talking animatedly to Albus and Minerva until they left, and immediately afterwards, he walked over to Elodie, ducked his head under her arm and scooped her up, backing over to the couch and sitting with her still clasped to his chest.

“I wasn’t jealous, you know,” Elodie told him, kicking one foot in an attempt to get him to at least drop the hand hooked under her knees.

“That’s because she’s out of both of our leagues. Not being jealous is actually a fantastic defense mechanism for your sense of inferiority,” Sirius said, letting to of her back to grab both of her hands with his free one so she couldn’t reach for her wand. Elodie glared up at him.

“Aren’t you the one who taught me a wandless stinging hex?” she reminded Sirius.

He dropped both her hands and her legs at the same time that Remus walked in from the kitchen, a dish towel hanging on one shoulder. “Would either of you like anything else tonight?” he offered to their two visitors. Both of them demurred.

Elodie both did and did not want to know if Tonks found the dish towel thing as attractive as she herself did. She covered the blush on her face with her hair as she got up from the awkward position Sirius had put her in. Then, Elodie whipped out her wand. She heard Remus laugh and mutter something about preferring mug clean-up to whatever was about to happen in the living room. Elodie tried to glare hard enough at his retreating back that he would turn back around and see her expression, but it didn’t work.

“You might want to head on into the Floo,” she told Tonks and Charlie. “It was nice to meet you and nice to see you again,” she added, nodding to each of them in turn. When she turned back around, Sirius had moved from her seat, and Elodie let her disappointment show on her face. “Aww, I was looking forward to levitating you!”

“Later,” Sirius said, knowingly. He popped up into a stand and walked over to Tonks. “Thanks for not shoving me off of my hippogriff earlier. I’m sorry I missed so much of the good parts of your growing up,” he said.

“You’re sorry you missed the awkward phase, you mean. No worries, you didn’t!” she told him, grinning. “I didn’t get to see you much as a sprog, but you hold up pretty well to those memories. Scruffy troublemaker, scruffy  _ tattooed _ troublemaker…” She held out her hands as if she were balancing them against each other.

“Hug Andy for me--  _ your mum, _ I mean, will you? I know you can’t tell her anything, but--”

“You got it,” Tonks said. “And you! Nice to re-meet you, as well,” she said to Charlie. Her eyes twinkled as she added, “My memories of you aren’t too different from his. Ginger troublemaker, innit?”

“At least my troublemaking was on purpose,” Charlie teased, rocking back on his heels as if the memories of their time at Hogwarts were overwhelming him. “I seem to recall something about the entire entrance to the Hufflepuff common room being disabled for a week after something you knocked over?”

“Well, a Metamorph without a defining characteristic is just flat out unmemorable,” Tonks told him, unfazed. “Come on, buy me a drink and I’ll tell you about the stuff I paggered that the school never found out about.”

“Floo? Or…” Charlie said, looking down at her, intrigued.

“Side-along. Hold on tight!” she said, threading her arm into his.

Right before the two of them disappeared, Elodie caught Charlie’s gaze. He had an almost steamrollered expression on his face, and she didn’t blame him. He was used to being the person who was casually impressing the people around him, not the other way around!

“Well  _ that’s _ interesting,” Sirius said, looking at Elodie with a thoughtful expression on his face. Now that the whirlwind of preparing the household for the meeting, attending the meeting, and cleaning up after the meeting was nearly complete, there was nothing stopping her from talking with Sirius about what had happened that morning. Elodie pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest as she thought about what she wanted to say. What she  _ really _ needed to do was talk to Remus somehow, but she wasn’t entirely sure she could talk to him without letting on that she’d heard any of what he’d said to Sirius. That was a whole different conversation, and not one either she or Remus was prepared for right now. If ever.

“Elodie?” Sirius’s voice was soft and uncertain. She looked up from where she’d been staring at the fabric of her trousers. He walked over and sat on the edge of the couch beside her. “Can I have a rain check on the conversation we should be having right now and just kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she told him, her smile a reflection of the flood of relief that she felt flowing through her veins at his suggestion. “In fact, I insist.”

 


	45. Take Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie and the rest of the slimmed-down Order of the Phoenix take up their positions to keep anyone from interfering with the Second Task, but everything gets turned upside down for Elodie after an unexpected confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have manic and depressive periods of hobby-ing. December '18 to April '19 was the writing manic, and I managed 300k words of fic during that time, mostly on this story. I'm edging toward another writing phase but I don't know if it's manic (20k words a week) vs. normal (6k words a week), so we'll find out. I'm also writing an original novel (in planning phase right now) finally, so at least some of the phase is devoted to that.
> 
> I love this story like my own child and don't intend to abandon it. I hopefully won't do the 'hiatus for 8 years' thing like on one of my other stories, but do know that if I don't post for a while, it's not abandoned. If I legit abandon the story I'll make some chapters with the content I have pre-written for later on, along with a run-down of the plot changes so you know what would have happened.
> 
> Thanks for your patience everyone. I missed writing manic like a fifth limb.

 

When Elodie woke the next morning, she was pleasantly surprised to see Sirius was still there in bed with her. She opened her eyes to the feeling of her wand vibrating in the bed as a makeshift alarm. Sirius had apparently been awake for a while, because when she’d finished stretching and looked around, he was lying on his side, one hand supporting his head, looking content. Only a tiny sparkle in his eyes and the way the corners of them were crinkled ever so slightly gave any impression that he was amused.

She tried to raise just one eyebrow and failed. This earned her a full smile from him.

“What? Was I crying out for the Giant Squid in my sleep last night?” she asked him, stretching her arms out for a second round.

“No. That spell is interesting, though,” he said, nodding at her wand.

“Oops, I should--” she said, grabbing at it. At the tiny surge of magic that happened when she touched her wand, it stopped moving. “I’m going to ignore the more prurient implications of your facial expression, because wands are  _ pointy, _ and  _ just NO,” _ she said firmly.

“Fair enough,” Sirius agreed.

“I also can’t be certain where I’ll end up getting assigned today at the Second Task, but I promise I’ll track down someone who had a good view and ask nicely for their memory of it so you can at least see what happened, even if it’s on a time delay,” Elodie added, getting up and then resting against the bed as she did her hair up into a messy braid. “Supposed to be windy today, I think,” she explained, recognizing Sirius’s frown. He hated when she did anything other than let her hair loose around her shoulders.

“Stay safe today?” he said, kneel-walking over to where she was still half-sitting on the bed so he could kiss her shoulder.

“I will do my best,” she replied, leaning her head back to kiss him.

“Speaking of ‘safe,’ what do you know about Charlie Weasley?” Sirius said, some minutes later. 

Elodie finished putting on the jumper she’d picked out to go over the thinner, long-sleeved shirt she’d already donned. “I assume this is about your cousin?” she said, pushing some flyaway curls back away from her face.

Sirius’s eyebrows creased just a tiny bit, as if he were dismayed at being caught out. “Maybe,” he said, allowing himself to fall back onto the bed. He gathered up all of the pillows and tossed them behind his head to varied effect.

“Are you bringing this up because you want me to comment on the book outcome and how this is different, or are you concerned about how well an Auror would handle a dragon tamer?” Elodie asked shrewdly, her hands on her hips.

Sirius held his large hands like cups and balanced them beside each other equally.

“I figured as much,” she said, shaking her head.

“I must have been distracted in that reality, because I’d warn almost any woman off of him for their own sake, after what he told me about his views on pairing up,” Sirius told her.

“I’m pretty sure you were in South America, and he probably never told anyone in that reality,” she reminded him. When Sirius opened his mouth to respond to her, she held up a finger and looked over at the door in trepidation. She and Sirius routinely cast silencing spells on his room whether or not they were engaged in behavior they didn’t want overheard, but she couldn’t be sure they were still active this many hours later. Behind her, she heard the bed creak as he got up, then a low curse that she interpreted as Sirius stubbing his toe on the place the foot of the bed stuck out a bit too far. She counted five seconds before his arms came around her and his warm chest pressed against her back.

“Thanks again for all that, then,” he murmured into her ear. “I don’t much deserve a guardian angel, but I’ve enjoyed her fall to Earth.”

“You’re opening yourself up for tarnished halo comments, you know,” she said, quirking a brow at him as she turned to look in his eyes.

“Speaking of…” he said, spinning her around and sliding down a possessive hand to draw her close for a long, passionate kiss.

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Elodie had dressed in layers, but she was glad for the additional option of warming charms, once she and Remus had arrived outside the protective perimeter of spells that surrounded Hogwarts. Ordinarily they’d have used the Floo, but Albus had suggested in a morning fire-call that it would be less suspicious if the Order members arrived the same way as their fellow spectators. They were too early to use the Temporary Floo System that was being set up now, of course, but there were others who had come just as early. Most were milling around the obvious congregation areas that had begun to be set up by the dock the night before.

When Albus came down from the castle with Minerva and Moody, he waved the rest of them into the Champions’ tent for a quick, spell-muffled meeting to assign duties. They’d moved that way casually enough that Elodie had missed the addition of another Hogwarts Professor to their midst until everyone was safely in through the tent flap and the secrecy spells had all been cast.

Severus Snape had joined them.

“I’m including Severus as a kind of spy in the midst of the student and faculty observers,” Albus said with a bit of a self-satisfied grin. Elodie tried to keep her facial expression neutral, and she didn’t look around to see what the other Order members’ faces showed, but she was surprised. “He says that the Durmstrang headmaster seems increasingly distracted and distressed. As the man gravitates toward Slytherin, I felt that keeping Severus in the loop would be helpful.”

“Get a sense that the man is reviving loyalties, Snape?” Moody boomed, leaning his upper body forward as he rested his weight on his cane.

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Snape said dryly. 

Elodie wanted nothing better than to make a cutting comment. Something along the lines of ‘Well if you’re not willing to share what you know, what good is your glowering presence going to do, then?’ but she held her tongue and turned her face and body away from the spy in their midst. It wasn’t really fair to punish him for having such a sour disposition when it served him so well as a double agent, after all. He just rubbed her the wrong way.

“Molly and I have a plan about where everyone should be situated,” Arthur was saying, his hands moving in front of his body in jerky but determined motions. “Alastor, you and Albus need to stay visible, not just because of your respective positions in the school, but to keep  _ you _ safe.” Arthur nodded at Moody. The ex-Auror huffed out a displeased breath but said nothing. “Molly and I will keep to the back of the student population, walking back and forth to keep an eye on stragglers and interference. Charlie, you and--”

Molly stepped forward and whispered something in her husband’s ear, something that made Arthur turn his head quickly and frown at her.

Molly made a hurry up gesture, and Arthur’s resulting scowl had more than one of the Order members hiding amused smiles behind their hands, Elodie included.

“For the sake of  _ focusing on the mission, _ Charlie and Elodie will be stationed at the lake’s edge that is closest to the Forbidden Forest. Elodie, you didn’t attend Hogwarts, so you won’t be likely to find anything you see as mundane or typical, like the rest of us might,” Arthur explained. 

Elodie nodded and glanced over at Charlie, who winked at her. When Arthur’s next set of instructions included Tonks’s name, she saw that Charlie winked at her, too.

Tonks ended up paired with Minerva, to patrol the lake’s edge closest to the crowd. McGonagall’s severe presence matched up with Tonks’s Auror badge was likely to be a strong deterrent for anyone who was questioning whether or not their possible mission to interfere would be worth it. Snape was asked to filter through the crowd itself and keep his eyes and ears open. Lupin and Shacklebolt were also positioned at the lake’s edge, across from Elodie and Charlie. 

When she got to the lake’s edge, she saw that, thanks to terrain changes and the local plant life, the four of them at the more remote parts of the lake would probably spend most of their time out of sight of each other. In truth, Elodie wasn’t too worried about that. She had spent some time before the Order meeting at Phoenix House looking up defensive spells whose purpose was to delay and distract. Her favorite one was proving difficult to visualize--the book she’d studied said it caused a loud, conjured firework kind of effect that drew immediate attention to the caster. 

The description had stated that part of the spell’s effects were boosted by fear and anxiety, which had been a clever move by the spell’s creator. She almost felt like those emotions had become old friends of hers, these past few days.

Elodie took a long, deep breath and lifted her wand.

“There’s the serene expression of a woman who has never had to spend a day in a house with Fred and George Weasley!” Charlie’s voice came from a few feet away.

“I can only imagine!” Elodie said. “I was just getting into the right mindset to cast the water-breathing spell Remus suggested.”

“Shit, I’d already forgotten about that,” Charlie confessed.

Elodie opened her eyes and turned to frown at him. “Imagine I’m lecturing you about respecting the level of danger we’re facing right now, will you? I’m too calm and focused to get into the right mood to bitch you out,” she told him with a smile. “Death wish, blah blah, value your life, it’s the only one you have, blah.”

“I am properly chastened,” Charlie told her gravely.

“Good,” Elodie said, closing her eyes and turning her back on him. She lifted her wand and traced out the correct movement, recalling the way Remus’s wand had moved the night before as he’d taught them all. His voice had been soothing, his motions swift and precise, and as she spoke the incantation, she felt the warm, reassuring weight of magic sinking into her chest. Elodie took a deep breath and felt an odd catch to the way she sucked in the air, as though it had an extra layer to travel through.

When she opened her eyes again, Charlie was gone, but that wasn’t upsetting. They were meant to be patrolling, after all. She cast a  _ Tempus _ charm and saw that there was still twenty-five minutes until the Task would begin. Elodie turned away from the lake and started to scan the grounds nearby for anything suspicious, even though she wasn’t really expecting to find anything.

That was why she was surprised ten minutes later to see two students who were not dressed in school robes or House colors crouched down behind a bush that wouldn’t have hid either one of them as toddlers. When a quick glance around showed her that Charlie wasn’t that far away from her position, Elodie walked over to the pair, who stood sheepishly when they saw her approach.

“Let me guess: you two were looking for a place to… improve your relationship?” Elodie said in a forbidding tone. The two students looked at each other, blushed, and looked away. They looked like they were barely fifteen years old, if that, and she moderated her voice to be more kind. “I have to imagine that the Astronomy Tower is fully booked by the older Slytherin students,” Elodie said wryly, “But  _ really? _ At least half the school and a bunch of Hogwarts alumni are a dozen meters away! You don’t know of any secluded corners in the castle?”

The young girl looked horrified at being caught, but beside her, the young boy got a look of determination on his face, grabbed her hand, and started running back toward the school.

Behind her, Elodie heard a man’s familiar laughter. She covered her face with a hand and didn’t turn around.

“It didn’t occur to you to suggest anything other than that the two find a different location to have sex? Elodie, I’m shocked!” Remus teased.

Elodie whirled around, pointing. “I did  _ not _ imply they were having sex!” Both of his eyebrows shot to the sky. “All right, maybe the Astronomy Tower reference could have been construed that way, but--”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me. There were quite a few worse Order members that could have spotted them. Minerva in particular--”

“Hah, the patron saint of house points was definitely guarding over them, if they sent me instead of McGonagall,” Elodie said. “Though now I’m curious as to whether Charlie would have chastised them or sent them along with advice on exactly where to hide in the castle.” She shot him a challenging look, curious to see if he’d comment on the Map or the knowledge he and his classmates had gleaned over the years.

“Finding them is most of the fun, Elodie,” Remus said with a knowing look. Then, he nodded his head to her and resumed patrolling. Elodie wondered if he had seen her speaking with someone and rushed over to ensure that she had backup in case anything was wrong.

The thought made her feel safe, and she smiled. 

That smile continued on her face as she watched from afar as the Champions were told their Task, and all four went into the lake. Her memories of these events from book four were fuzzy at best, so she had the best of both worlds, in her opinion. She knew everyone would come out unhurt, but the specifics were buried deep enough that the event was still exciting for her. The only nagging concern she had was to worry about whether  _ all _ the plans of their adversary had been shifted thanks to Moody’s rescue. There wasn’t any real reason for that, though, was there? Ron wasn’t capable of being turned into a Portkey, and for all Elodie knew, it was necessary to take all the time until June of that year to prepare for what Lord Git had planned in that graveyard.

Elodie turned away from the lake and started to scan her surroundings. She was so caught up in looking and listening for possible threats approaching from the Forbidden Forest that she was startled into speechlessness when she turned and saw a well-dressed older man standing beside her.

“I did muffle my steps, I admit,” the man said in amusement. If they’d been spoken by Arthur Weasley or Albus Dumbledore, those words would have been said in joking familiarity, but this man’s tone had a broad streak of meanness to it, like he was mocking her for missing seeing him earlier.

“It’s only halfway through the event,” Elodie said, hating the breathless effect fear had on her voice. “I’m sure you don’t want to miss anything.” She gestured toward the stands, but goosebumps rose on her arms as she saw just how long a walk it was from the crowd to where they were standing. No way had this man traveled across the water of the lake, and if he hadn’t, he would have spent at least fifteen to twenty minutes walking within her line of sight. 

If that had been the case, she should have seen him before now, shouldn’t she?

“I’m far more interested in what you have to say, young lady,” the man said firmly. 

Something about the way he said it made her adrenaline level jump, and Elodie crossed her arms. This let her grasp the top of her wand in her coat pocket. The man saw the movement and narrowed his eyes at her. Then, he actually pulled out his own wand, which let Elodie whip hers out and point it at him the same way he was pointing his at her.

“Whatever you think you need to hear from me can be said in the presence of Albus Dumbledore,” she told him. She felt pride in the way that her voice remained steady and sounded unafraid.

“I can’t say likewise, I’m afraid,” the man said, coughing roughly, his wand wavering. He stumbled backwards a step before he straightened and brushed a hand across the suit he was wearing, which drew Elodie’s attention to it.

Now that she could see him more clearly, her impression of the man as a tidy, fussy sort of person was falling away. The fabric of the suit was threadbare, and it had been ‘repaired’ with some sort of black tape in certain places. He was clearly not wearing an undershirt, and the buttonholes of the suit-coat were torn, which allowed the buttons to slip freely from them when he twisted his body. There were ugly yellow stains that she could see at his underarm, and when Elodie looked up at his face, she saw that his haircut wasn’t even. It looked like he might have cut it himself. All of these observations happened in the space of a few seconds, and the end result was that Elodie’s own wand dropped a few inches. The formidable, threatening nature of his commanding behavior was completely belied by what she’d seen. It was confusing, because she didn’t  _ think _ she could have missed quite so much on first glance.

“You’re confused,” the man wheezed. “Does this help?” He muttered a spell, and Elodie cast  _ Protego  _ on instinct.

He hadn’t attacked her, but his appearance more closely resembled her original impression, now.

“Your defense attempt is predictable and weak,” he scoffed. “If I had wanted to harm you just now, you would be on the ground in a heap.” The man’s whole demeanor had shifted along with his appearance, now, and Elodie stepped sideways, out of the shadow of a bush and away from the water’s edge. She didn’t want to take her eyes off of him, but she was hoping Charlie or Remus could see that she was speaking to someone. Maybe they’d even recognize the stance they were both standing in, on edge and alert, wands at the ready.

“I’m going to detain you under the Headmaster’s authority,” Elodie said confidently.

“Go right ahead. Before you fetch him, though, I want you to tell me something.” The man advanced on her, and Elodie stepped back with her left foot, trying to look like she was engaging in some kind of battle stance.  _ “Where is my son?” _ he suddenly shouted at her, and Elodie suddenly realized who he was.

Bartemius Crouch,  _ Senior. _

She was shocked and pissed enough at this turn of events enough that she let her temper get the better of her.

“What, you lost him already?” she asked, viciously. “After all the effort you went through to bust him out of Azkaban? Your boss isn’t going to like that one bit, is that why you’re out here threatening strange Americans beside a lake in Scotland?”

Elodie had raised her voice louder than was really warranted for a two person conversation in hopes that one of the other Order members assigned to the lake would hear her. Her adversary had caught her glances and guessed her intent, though, and he shrugged off her taunts as easily as he’d shrugged back into his glamour spell. Only the way his eyebrows had shot up when she mentioned his role in getting his son out of prison told her she’d rattled him at all.

Crouch tsked at her. “Feeling inadequate, are you? Hogwarts’ vaunted security turned out to be no more solid than Azkaban’s, I’m afraid. But hiding my son from public justice is a coward’s game, and it won’t keep the lot of you safe if they’ve started sharing secrets with… what did you call yourself? A strange American?” He looked her up and down with a sneer that would have been far more effective if she didn’t know his lapels were repaired with tape underneath the glamour spell.

“You complain that I’m a nobody who shouldn’t know anything and then demand that I give you information on an escapee from Azkaban,” Elodie said, shaking her head. “You’ve lost your head, buddy, I hate to tell you. I’m just guarding the lake.”

“Doing a fine job of it, too,” Crouch mocked her. He made a dismissive hand gesture and turned away from her, and Elodie scratched her head with her wand hand, trying to remember the scene from the fourth book where he’d appeared in the forest. Events were happening differently now, so what could he want?

In the next second, Elodie was struck with a powerful immobilization spell. She toppled like a felled tree, her head landing ear-first into a marshy puddle. With her loose grip cemented by the spell, her wand was easily dislodged by the fall, not that she could move to defend herself. Crouch walked over to stand over her, tall and scornful.

“Did you know it’s possible to drown after just a single mouthful of water gone down the wrong way?” he asked her conversationally. “The victim seems fine, and yet dies hours, sometimes days away from the water, confused and gasping. It’s a shame I’ll miss it.”

With that, Bartemius Crouch, Senior lifted his wand and sent a flash of red toward her from his wand. She recognized the spell as one that knocked out an opponent. It was not quite an Unforgivable, but it worked with the same theory--the caster had to  _ want _ the target to become unconscious and insensate. The more anger poured into the spell, the better. The impact of the spell felt like a freight train striking her square in the face.

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Elodie woke slowly. She felt like someone had started to gently push the slider of consciousness up toward ‘awake;’ the feeling started with becoming aware of her own steady breathing, then the sensation of a firm, flat surface underneath her. Her eyelids felt like every ‘weight’ cliché ever written, but a sudden stab of fear that she might not be somewhere  _ actually _ safe, that she could be on a bed in the basement of Malfoy Manor somehow had her fighting to open her eyes.

The plain, institutional white of the ceiling tiles were incongruously comforting to her. There was no way Lucius Malfoy or his family would ever deign to decorate with materials so unflattering and cheap.

As her surroundings came into better focus with every blink, she saw that she wasn’t alone. A red-haired figure sat slumped in a chair nearby. After one more clarifying blink, Elodie saw who it was.

“Arthur?” she said, her voice weak and barely audible. Its effect on her target was immediate, though.

“Elodie! Oh, it worked!” he said, his voice shaking with happiness and apparent relief. This was less comforting than it might otherwise have been, especially when Arthur sprang to his feet and started for the door. She must have made a noise of dismay, because he stopped in the doorway and spoke. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back. Just grabbing the mediwitch!”

Then, with a broad, fatherly smile, he rushed out of her sight.

Sitting up was too much effort, Elodie knew this instinctively. Turning her head seemed like it was okay, though, and so she took in the state of the room. She was somewhere in St. Mungo’s, she decided. There were no windows she knew of that were shaped quite like that at Hogwarts. There was a table set up in front of the window, and it was covered almost entirely with pots and vases of flowers.

_ “What--” _ Elodie started to say, but Arthur came back in again to interrupt her with three official-looking hospital workers trailing behind him.

“Well! Look at you!” a grey-haired woman with a kindly looking face crowed at her.

“All right, now I’m freaked out,” Elodie said, lifting both hands as if she could ward off the medical worker’s goodwill. “There are enough flowers here to mourn a five member family, and you look pleased that I managed to wake up at all. What is going on?!”

Arthur hurried over and took her hand, which distracted her from the way one of the other mediwitches started casting diagnostic spells at and around Elodie.

“Charlie found you. Disarmed, immobile, unconscious,” he told her seriously. “Do you know who attacked you?”

Elodie nodded, but made a face.

“You don’t have to tell me right now,” Arthur told her. His expression was one of grim determination, one he’d often worn at Order meetings during intense discussions. “Whoever it was cast a nasty curse on you, did you happen to hear it before it hit?”

“My Latin is utter shit,” Elodie told him frankly. One of the witches near the foot of the bed gasped at her profanity. “Unfortunately, the spell he cast before I was knocked out was the one that knocked me out, that much I did recognize.” She told Arthur what it was, and he grimaced. Then, Elodie remembered something else. “Oh! Before he cast that spell, he told me I would drown. Slowly.”

“In a way he was right, Miss Merriman,” the kindly witch said, walking over to the opposite side of the bed from Arthur. “We could not figure out what was ailing you for quite a while after you were brought in. It’s not a widely known spell. We didn’t recognize it at first.”

“Because of the water breathing spell!” Elodie said, her eyes going wide.

“Charlie hasn’t stopped beating himself up about that, though he’ll hex me for telling you,” Arthur said, coming up and resting a hand on the footboard of the bed. When Elodie looked confused, he clarified, “He saw you cast the spell, but didn’t remember for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Elodie breathed. Suddenly the flowers and the relief made sense. “I should be dead, shouldn’t I?” she said, using all of her strength to lift herself up on her elbows. “By all rights, dead. I can see it on all of your faces!”

_ Oh God. Sirius! _ she thought to herself. If she’d been at St. Mungo’s for weeks, fighting for her life, he would have been miserable. A caged animal, unable to visit her.

Elodie slumped back against her pillows and covered her face with her hands. She tuned out the sudden angry voice of the chief mediwitch as she chastised someone, probably Arthur. She’d been lying unconscious, no help to anyone, while the people she loved and needed to care for had been worried about her. Who had been brewing Wolfsbane? Had Sirius needed to be restrained from trying to visit? Was he still safe?

Suddenly, a calm, reassuring voice interrupted her frantic thoughts.

“‘If for a while, the harder you try, the harder it gets, take heart-- so it has been with the greatest people who ever lived.’”

Elodie didn’t open her eyes, but she did lower her hands from her face and smiled. “How is it you have a crazy talent for picking quotes out of thin air that make me feel better?” she asked Remus, tipping her head back, her eyes still closed.

“I have to put all that reading and studying to use  _ sometime,” _ he replied. She could  _ hear _ the smile in his voice. “Elodie?” he said, a moment later. He sounded worried.

“If I open my eyes now, I have to acknowledge that life happened while I was disengaged from it,” she whispered. 

There was a sound of metal scraping, the unmistakably Muggle sound of a cheap chair being dragged across tile flooring. The oddness of it made her open her eyes despite her declaration. She watched her dear friend sit down and then turned her face away before making eye contact with him.

“That was a dirty trick. You knew I’d open my eyes if I heard that-- it’s a sound that doesn’t belong in a magic environment,” she said. “Is it possible to adjust the bed so I’m sitting up?” she asked, addressing the knot of adults at the foot of her bed who were talking in quiet, urgent voices. One of the nurses nodded and flicked her wand while speaking a quick spell, and Elodie’s bed slowly adjusted her to a more upright position.

“Guilty as charged,” Remus said lightly.

“Is he all right?” Elodie blurted out, looking away from him toward the far window as if she could expect to see Sirius and Buckbeak hovering outside it any minute now.

“He’s safe, if that’s--”

_ “Is he all right?” _ Elodie hissed, finally looking at his face. Remus didn’t look demonstrably older or more tired, and she tried to tell herself that was at least  _ something. _

“How do you want me to answer that question, Elodie?” Remus asked, looking unhappy. “Not really. There are two ways to interpret his behavior since you were attacked. Would you like the positive version?” Before she could respond, Remus continued speaking, leaning forward toward her as he spoke. It seemed like this was motivated by intensity rather than a need to hide what he was saying from the hospital staff. “We have a new shed. Since Severus took over potion brewing, our housemate has taken it upon himself to renovate your potions room. He’s added shelves and hooks--even a window.”

Elodie stared at Remus. Her breathing quickened as she understood the obscured, actual truth behind what he was saying, but Remus felt the need to make sure she completely understood him.

“You don’t want to believe me,” he said. “Ask me again.”

“He wrecked them, didn’t he?” she whispered. Arthur caught a glimpse of the look on Elodie’s face and quickly ushered everyone else out of the room.

“Not both of them, no,” Remus replied. His body language relaxed a bit when the door shut behind the others after they left the room. Remus cast a quick  _ Muffliato  _ around the bed.

“Did he wreck your potion? I’m sorry--”

_ “Stop. _ You are not responsible for the man-child that is Padfoot when he is angry. And no, he didn’t. He waited until after I’d drunk the last bit. I’d kept from him the fact that Albus had asked Severus to start the next cauldron. When Padfoot saw that the second cauldron was empty, he… became upset.”

“Because you were all assuming I wouldn’t come back.”

“Not as such,” Remus objected, holding up a finger. “Practicality was the biggest motivator, but yes, the implications were very obvious. We thought your recovery could take a long time.”

“Wait, a  _ window?” _ Elodie had finally caught up to that part. “He put a hole through the outside wall?! How long have I been--”

“No one told you?” Remus said, clearly shocked. He stood up and Elodie reached out and managed to snag his hand in hers before he started to walk toward the door. When she touched him, Remus stopped dead in his tracks. The reaction was so immediate that Elodie started to wonder how close it was to the full moon. Arthur had said ‘weeks,’ and the need of a different Potions Master told her that it could be as many as  _ eight _ weeks, especially if she was right and Remus was close to the full moon. Impulsively, she decided to ask him.

“When was the last full moon?”

Remus tugged at her hand, but she tightened her grip. He had werewolf strength, but he was also unfailingly polite, and she did just wake up after a long ‘illness.’ He tugged again, then sighed.

“Two days ago,” he said. “I need to speak to one of the mediwitches about how they’ve handled you waking up, Elodie.”

“You’ll have to do it without your hand, then. I’m not traumatized by finding out it’s been possibly two moon cycles since the Task. Sit down.”

“Four,” Remus said flatly.

Elodie released his hand out of sheer surprise.  _ “Four?” _

Remus dropped himself back into the chair. “At first, you were just unconscious. It didn’t seem like there was anything else at play, because the water breathing spell you’d cast was masking the drowning curse,” he said hoarsely. “But the water breathing spell, while long-lasting, eventually wore off. You started dying.”

“Dying?” Elodie felt the weight of the word in both his tone and the bleak expression on his face.

“They halted it, but Albus suspected you’d been attacked with one of the curses Severus had created. His spells often showcase an extra level of cruelty. That was when it was decided the potions room needed a window, we’ll say,” Remus told her. “Halfway through the third month, Padfoot took the shed apart and rebuilt it. Without magic.”

Elodie’s heart ached. “When can I go home? Can I go now? I am sure I can walk, it’s like getting back onto a bicycle, right?” She swept the blanket aside and swung her legs off of the bed. “Magic users are smart enough to cast spells preventing muscle deterioration, right?”

Remus slid his chair sideways with a grating sound of protesting metal. He placed one hand on either side of her on the bed, palm down, trapping her in place.

“If you’re not ready and hurt your chances of going home as soon as possible, I don’t know what room we’ll lose next,” he told Elodie. She looked up at him and clenched her teeth in frustration. He was right, of course. Right, and very close. She was wearing a hospital gown, and it was mere days after the full moon. There had been plenty of catastrophic revelations today so far, she didn’t want to add ‘by the way, your best friend’s girlfriend knows what you taste like, and her body is reacting to that very potent memory’ to the list.

“Okay,” Elodie said, tucking her legs back under the blanket. She watched Remus pull back from her with mostly relief. Then, a thought occurred to her. “Did you have to find a way to buy the house?” 

Remus’s cross look had her grinning. She loved when he looked cross. “Yes, Albus made an offer and we’re essentially paying him a smaller amount in rent, now. I insisted. How in Merlin’s name did you figure that out already?” 

“You’re far too responsible to allow that kind of destruction of property without notifying your landlord,” Elodie said.

“You really are a singular person. You  _ just _ found out you’ve been in magical stasis for four months, but your concern is with your housemates and their responsibilities.  _ Molly Weasley _ was more upset about this than you are!” Remus said, shaking his head at her.

“I like ‘magical stasis’ far better than ‘medically induced coma,’” Elodie remarked, ignoring his incredulity. “Go on, be cross at someone for not telling me more gently, I know you want to. Ask about when I can go home when you’re done with the first bit,” she added.

“Today, if possible?” he asked her hopefully.

“He’s that bad to live with solo?” Elodie joked.

“It’s not the same at home without you,” Remus said simply. Then, before he had a chance to see the way her face changed to hear him say that, he got up and walked over to the door, a look of determination on his face.

_ Four months, holy fuck! _ Elodie thought to herself once he was gone. The full moon had been two days before the Second Task. She recalled that the fourth book had a really late end of term date-- somewhere in the middle of June, if she remembered correctly. That meant she hadn’t missed the Third Task, but it was less than a month away, surely?

She’d been counting on those months to come up with a strategy to keep Harry safe during the Third Task, and now they’d basically evaporated away. What had the Order found out in the meantime? A stab of remembered fear reminded Elodie that Barty Crouch Sr. had been determined to find his son. Surely, if Crouch Jr. was back in Azkaban, that would be something his father could find out about? Was there something more sinister behind Crouch’s demands?

The action that should have been her first since waking up was finally at the forefront of Elodie Merriman’s mind: finding her wand. It was resting peacefully on a bedside table, and Elodie snatched it up and held it to her chest, closing her eyes to enjoy the surge of magic and overall sense of well-being.

She was still in the UK, she still had Remus in her life, and she still presumably had Sirius in her life. Harry was safe. Her crazy, precarious new life was now nearing its second year.

Elodie wanted to go home to Phoenix House. Home was now firmly established in this universe, and she felt certain that if she were to wake up in 2009, she’d feel horribly disconnected from all that was right with the world. 

Somehow, she didn’t feel strange about this. It was time to go  _ home. _


	46. Reconstruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elodie comes home to a slightly different Phoenix House, some changes bittersweet, others touching. A letter from Albus has her concerned about her attacker and what his motivations could have been.

 

Remus didn’t come back to Elodie’s hospital room for about three hours, but when he did, he told her he had arranged everything about her release later that day. She wondered if any of that time had to do with the fact that she’d told Remus who had attacked her. The look on his face when she told him had been less surprised and more concerned than she had expected, which probably meant that there was Order of the Phoenix related information she needed to be told.

Remus had given her a bit of an anxiety attack by telling her that her attack was being investigated by Nymphadora Tonks and her Auror partner, Andrew ‘Bellie’ Campbell. Elodie had immediately pictured long meetings at Phoenix House with a concerned-looking Remus demanding to know every detail of the case, and thus spending a lot of time with Tonks. In his next breath, though, Remus had allayed those fears by telling her she’d need to ask Sirius for specifics, because Remus himself had spent a lot of time at the offices of  _ Orion’s Belt _ during her time at St. Mungo’s.

He’d told her, ‘You could say both of us kept as busy as we could in our own ways.’

There was a lot to be done, both in terms of rehabilitating her relationships with the people she cared about and in terms of catching up on everything the Order had been up to during her hospital stay. And if Elodie was honest with herself, she didn’t want to do any of it until she’d had a good long sleep in a regular, non-hospital bed!

She wasn’t cleared for Apparition or Side-Along, but Elodie was allowed to use the Floo, so after getting her release instructions from the witches and wizards who had treated her while in the hospital, she and Remus made their way to the Travel Room. It was busy, split between the receiving section where injured patients were showing up via the multiple Floos and the Apparition Designated Area. There was one group in the queue in front of them, so Elodie and Remus waited in silence as they watched the man with a glowing bandage around his hand sign his name to a paper with a flourish of his wand.

“You look nervous,” Remus observed in a quiet voice.

Elodie looked up at Remus. “I am,” she said, biting her lip. “For multiple reasons, one of which is probably silly. I don’t physically  _ feel _ like anything happened to me at all! I mean, I am a bit weak, which is probably related to not using my muscles for a third of a year. But, besides that, I’m also scared I’ll need to sign some sort of a crazy agreement in order to leave somewhere I don’t actually remember coming to in the first place.” She sighed and looked down at the floor. “And there’s this weight of responsibility. I was gone, whether or not I remember that. So I have relationships to fix that I don’t even remember damaging.”

Remus’s hand came to rest on her shoulder comfortingly when she said the word ‘relationships.’ Elodie tipped her head sideways and shrugged her shoulder up but stopped short of resting her cheek on his hand. To her surprise, he didn’t move his hand when she started the gesture.

“Absolutely none of us are upset at  _ you _ for what happened, Elodie,” Remus said in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’re just glad to have you back in one piece. I’ve already had messages from Albus and Slughorn, actually.” He cast a quick  _ Tempus _ charm, then smiled thinly. “And, speaking of Albus, you should know I won’t be able to come along with you right away. I have a… meeting. At Hogwarts.” He squeezed her shoulder, but she didn’t get a chance to respond (or tease him for being bad at dissembling. The meeting was almost certainly with the Order, not just Albus Dumbledore) as it was finally their turn.

The release paperwork asked for her promise not to cast any medical magic on herself for a period of a week, and to come back if she needed further treatment instead of attempting it herself. That was a relief, given that Elodie had worried that there might be some sort of monitoring magic cast on her that would betray Sirius’s location. The officious man who had required her signature spent so much time ‘reassuring’ her that her ‘clear signs of mental disquiet would surely be minimal once resettled at home’ that she didn’t have a chance to look behind her to be sure Remus was still there. It was clear that Elodie wasn’t going to be able to shake the dismissal clerk, so she simply smiled brightly at him, promised she would take good care of herself, threw the pinch of Floo Powder into the designated fireplace, and said ‘Phoenix House’ as loudly as she could before stepping in.

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If the look on Arthur Weasley’s face after she woke up hadn’t been quite enough to make her believe that she really had been unconscious for a long time, the state of her house was pretty convincing.

Most of the furniture was still in the same place, with the exception of the huge bookcase that was missing. In its place was a high, square table with the Hogwarts Pensieve resting on it. On the wall behind the Pensieve was a curio cabinet that seemed to have quite a few memory vials stored on specially-designed shelves. One of the small doors to the cabinet was left open, and Elodie could see that the vials didn’t appear to be marked in any specific way. She saw no colored ribbons tied around them, nor was there any visible writing on the caps that she could see.

Elodie dragged her eyes away from the curious sight of that particular Pensieve in a semi-permanent installation in her house. The living room was cluttered. Remus’s chair was surrounded by books--at least three stacks, with five or more books in each. The table nearby had an empty inkpot tipped on its side, two half full ones waiting to be used, and a scattering of parchment rolls. A dirty quill was propped up on one of the inkpots, the ink it had been previously dipped in long-since dried in an extended stain up toward the feather. As she stepped further into the room, she saw that there were two different tea mugs hiding in amongst the mess on the table.

On their recycled Gryffindor couch was a haphazard pile of newspapers from various publishers, all folded in atrocious attempts at recreating their original condition. Sirius’s slippers were resting beside her usual spot, and Elodie could perfectly picture how they’d gotten there. For all that he loved to wear slippers, the temperature of Sirius Black’s feet varied wildly. He was always leaving them around the house, discarded once he’d sat for long enough that his incessant leg bouncing had gotten the blood flowing.

There were quite a few crumbs on the floor.

“Elodie!  _ Merlin,” _ Sirius said from the hallway. She barely got a glimpse of the scrunched-up look of joy on his face before he barreled into her, his face buried in her shoulder, for all that he was taller than she was.

Elodie held on for all she was worth, and so did he.

After breathing each other in for a few minutes, Sirius lifted his head, and before he could say anything, Elodie leaned up to kiss him briefly.  _ “Not _ a take back,” she said.

His long, relieved sigh blew the dull, unwashed strands of hair back from her face as Sirius rested his forehead against hers. “How did you know?” he whispered, his arms tightening around her for a few seconds before relaxing again. After a kiss to her temple, Sirius seemed to conclude that letting her continue to stand in front of the fireplace was a poor way to welcome her home, and led her to the couch.

There was a moment of confusion while both of them attempted to sit in the space they considered ‘theirs;’ Sirius had clearly taken her side of the couch over when it became clear that she wasn’t going to come home right away.

“How--” Sirius started to repeat himself, but Elodie stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing over his lips.

“Because I’m your girlfriend, and I know you,” she said. The fire that lit in his eyes on hearing this made her feel very glad she was sitting down. “I might not know everything, but I do know some of what you like and some of the things that you worry about.”

Sirius made a hmph-ing noise that made her laugh out loud to hear it.

“I’m sorry, you know,” she said to him in a serious tone.

“What? No.” His face hardened into a forbidding look that she had never seen before. He took both of her hands in his and squeezed them just a touch too strongly. “You are  _ not _ to blame, there’s no--”

“Wait,” she said in a whisper, wincing. Sirius was immediately contrite, smoothing over the places his thumbs had pressed into. “I’m not talking about blame. I’m talking about something entirely preventable. Ah ah!” It was Elodie’s turn to squeeze  _ his _ hands, as he’d opened his mouth to object to her before he’d even heard her out. “We should have had something in place, is what I’m saying. A way for you to know what’s going on with me when I’m hurt--a notice that I live with my cantankerous, hermit father who only communicates by Owl post, for example. A way for you not to have to rely on everyone else to know how I am doing.”

A look of amazement crossed Sirius’s face. His grey eyes searched hers, his brows alternating between furrowed in confusion and lifted in surprise. “You never do what I expect you to, you know that?”

His words made her feel an odd sense of pride. After all, wasn’t that the ultimate goal in a cinematic universe? 

“You’re pretty unexpected yourself, Sirius Black,” Elodie told him. The tension she’d been feeling since she walked in started to dissipate, and she slumped onto the couch, resting her head on Sirius’s shoulder.

“Now, my instinct is to offer to take you to bed, but I feel like I should make clear that the goal is to help you rest, not shag you senseless,” Sirius said, his chin resting on her head.

Elodie started giggling as soon as he’d gotten halfway through the caveat.

“Couldn’t go twenty-four hours before you start laughing at me, pet?” he complained.

“It’s just that I  _ know _ you, Sirius. You phrased that very carefully. ‘The goal is…’” Elodie pointed out, trailing off to hint at the implied innuendo.

Sirius swore colorfully under his breath. When Elodie’s eyes widened, he explained, “I promised Remus I wouldn’t pounce on you right after you got home.”

“This is something you discussed with Remus?!” Elodie asked, feeling her cheeks turning pink.

“No, no, I--” Sirius cut himself off after initially rushing to say no. 

Elodie drew her knees up, plopped her elbows on them, then plopped her chin onto her hands. “Go on?”

“If I carry you to bed and promise to keep my hands off of you all night so you can get sleep, will you drop this?” Sirius asked plaintively.

“All right, but don’t make a habit of it,” Elodie said. “I’ll need to run down to grab something to sleep in, though.”

“Actually, you won’t,” Sirius said. He reached down and lifted his brows in question, and she nodded. He picked her up like she was a maiden just untied from railroad tracks. As he walked towards the master bedroom, she couldn’t help but chuckle again. Sirius was really pouring on all the most amusing aspects of his personality for her--now they were going in the wrong direction!

“My clothes are that way?” Elodie said, pointing behind his back at the kitchen area.

“Remus told you I made some… adjustments? To the house?” Sirius said, avoiding her eyes.

Elodie didn’t want to acknowledge that she knew at least some of the ‘adjustments’ were a result of a spectacular temper tantrum on his part, so she just nodded. Sirius reached his bedroom door, adjusted his grip on her, and kicked it open gently, if one could ever describe kicking a door open as ‘gentle.’ He walked in and set her down on the bed.

The room looked quite different than it had when she’d seen it last.

The bed was in the same position, but the headboard had been improved by extending the wooden backing upward to include some intricate carving. The carvings started as subtle indentations and cross-hatching about a foot from the mattress, and ended as practically a work of art. Hogwarts Castle sat as almost a guardian for the bed, its various towers forming the irregular top edge of the headboard. In the center-right there was a tree that Elodie felt had to be the Whomping Willow. Six inches from the tree was the lake, with the Forbidden Forest sitting in the far distance and rising to create the rest of the top edge. It was beautiful craftsmanship, even without close examination. At each corner of the bed now rose a tall, carved bedpost, which met to make a frame from which curtains could be hung, though none were currently hanging. Elodie could see that each bedpost was also carved, and that they didn’t match, but the bed was the least of the changes to the room, so she sat up to look at the rest.

Gone were the carved wall decorations that had made it so difficult to imagine putting Remus’s bookshelves into that room. Now, the walls were painted a warm cream color, and a wide, tall Gryffindor tapestry hung across from the window. The original closets had been extended using the same wood as the bed. Their four doors were now wider and part of what looked like a wardrobe built into the whole wall, instead of a simple closet taking up most of it. The doors had light relief carvings, like the first six or so inches of the headboard, with a few more intricate details. The floor was covered by a thick crimson rug whose edges didn’t quite reach the wall. There were matching wood carved nightstands on either side of the bed, and beside Elodie’s was the missing bookcase from the living room, full of books. On Sirius’s side was a pair of comfy looking chairs in golden upholstery, right next to the window, with a tall lamp against the wall behind one of them.

It was a magnificent room, and Elodie had to shut her mouth after a few seconds of not realizing it was hanging open. Sirius looked  _ immensely _ pleased.

Elodie slipped down off of the bed and walked over to give him a hug. “But, Sirius--this is an  _ adult’s  _ bedroom!” she said, looking up at him impishly, her cheek resting against him.

His rumbling laugh filled her with a sense of belonging and joy.

“Well, yes and no,” he said, gently disentangling himself from her and walking over to the wardrobe. “This one’s your side. Honestly, it’s big enough for two people, but I’m sure my mother would have shat herself imagining my Pureblood inheritance paying for an ex-Muggle dimensional traveler’s fancy furniture.” He waggled his eyebrows at Elodie, and she pictured the portrait at #12 Grimmauld Place, a location she would undoubtedly be visiting sometime in the next year.

Sirius’s hand appeared in front of her, waving up and down.

“Sorry, just having a Moment, realizing I’ll end up face to face with dear old Mum’s portrait at some point, most likely.”

“I set it on fire, once,” Sirius said, conversationally. “Didn’t take.” He shook his head and threw his hair back with both hands. “The doors are custom, like the bed. Yours were made with book outlines. The potions ones were all First Year Potions stuff, ugly nonsense, they were, so both doors are book related. One’s all ‘Restricted Section,’ see?”

Sirius crouched down and pointed from the bottom of the carved panel up to shoulder height. The left-hand door was carved to look like a jumble of stacked books, some edge-on, some with the titles showing. The titles weren’t any Elodie recognized, but as Sirius had called them a restricted section, she assumed they were either valuable or rare. The other side, she saw, had no titles, but were carved as though the door was the facade of a bookcase. Sirius was watching her face and bouncing on his heels, and she smiled at him fondly. She was getting tired, but his enthusiasm was fueling her ability to stay awake and engaged in what he was showing her.

“You can customize this one. With your favorite book titles. I have a special charm I got with the installation,” Sirius said, proudly.

“That’s amazing! Magic is really just…” Elodie hugged herself and smiled, feeling delighted. Then, she finally finished ‘hearing’ what Sirius had said earlier when she said the changes he’d made turned the room into an adult’s bedroom. Sirius had said ‘yes and no,’ and suddenly Elodie  _ really _ wanted to know what his custom-made closet doors looked like. She grabbed her favorite nightgown off of a hanger where Sirius had apparently hung it with her other dresses, and changed her clothes as quickly as she could. There was a sturdy wicker laundry basket tucked into the closet, and Elodie put in the clothes she’d worn that day, slid it back into place, and moved over to where Sirius was standing in front of his side of the wardrobe.

One of the doors was an ode to Old Ogden’s Firewhiskey. The upper part was the crest that she’d seen before on the bottle, and the bottom part of the door showed a half-empty bottle and a mostly drained glass.

“The supplier didn’t like this one, but I wasn’t paying him to like it,” Sirius told her, shutting the opposite door.

It showed a Muggle motorcycle, complete with stylized logo. The intricately recreated motorcycle had odd sparks surrounding it, and when Elodie looked up at Sirius, she could tell by his face that this was a story unto itself. She lifted herself up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and headed for the bed. Sirius had seen the look on her face, so she knew he’d tell her all about it.

“You’re waiting for a big long story about how I intimidated the guy into giving me a carved Muggle motorcycle door, but you’re forgetting something very important,” Sirius said, throwing himself onto the bed and immediately rolling over to grin at her, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m a fugitive from justice.”

It took Elodie a full minute to realize what he was trying to tell her, and when she got it, her eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“You made  _ Remus _ demand to have a motorcycle carved onto your fancy-ass magical wardrobe?!” she squealed.

“I did,” Sirius said, with great satisfaction. “He was forced to be very persuasive. Showed them the shed, hinted at the wife stuck at St. Mungo’s--”

Elodie sat up. “Did you make him do that?” she asked, her voice urgent, worried. Sirius rolled over onto his back and made a face, but he shook his head.

“No, but I think he did it because he  _ thought _ I would ask him. He’d have said no, of course, but if I didn’t ask, then it could be his idea…” Sirius looked over at her and he couldn’t have missed the anxious way she was twisting her fingers into her hair. “We can talk about this now, or I can cast a brilliant cleansing charm I learned from an old girlfriend of mine on your hair and we can sleep on it?”

“I didn’t feel like I needed to apologize to you for all of this,” Elodie said in a quiet, distressed voice. “But… I think I do need to apologize to Remus. From what little I know of what I missed, my being gone seems to have magnified everything that we were all already stressing out about.”

Sirius’s response was to use one hand to get her attention, his wand hand lifted, ready to cast. She narrowed her eyes at his clever use of something she did need and want as a distraction technique, but nodded.

It really  _ was  _ a great charm. As Elodie ran her fingers through her silky soft hair, she looked at Sirius, then beyond him at the way the room looked now, after his changes.

“Sirius?” she said. 

He looked at her and something about her happy tone of voice combined with the delighted smile she offered him made him visibly relax. His eyebrows shot up in a question and Elodie felt a little frisson of excitement at the reaction she knew he would have in reaction to her next words.

“You’ve turned our house into a  _ home, _ crumbs and all,” Elodie said, snuggling into the blanket and kissing his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Sirius was silent for so long that she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. Then, right before she drifted off, she felt the press of his lips on her forehead before he whispered his response.

“It wasn’t one until you came back, love.”

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The morning brought bright sunshine streaming in through the window, illuminating the bedpost at the foot of the bed on Sirius’s side. Elodie saw it when she woke up, and she tried to make out what the carving was as she blinked her sleepiness away. When she finally figured it out, a chill flowed through her as if she’d been injected with ice water that had been charmed to touch every cell of her body before it dissipated.

The carving was of a rat. A rat missing a toe.

“You’ve found them out of order,” Sirius said in a soft voice. She looked over at him, and he smiled more easily than she would have expected. “Look down at your side.”

Elodie reached her hand out to lay it on his chest, and Sirius obliged her by clasping her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. She looked down at the foot of the bed on her side and saw the figure of a shaggy dog carved into the wood, its toothy smile looking directly at the bedpost opposite. Even without the black coloring, it was clearly Padfoot.

“Before you freak out, I had Remus choose very specific memories of each animal to show to the craftsman. There’s no chance the man knew they’re of Animagi,” Sirius said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Or if he did, he didn’t bother to check with the registry. James is up beside me.”

The antlers of James’s stag were artfully woven around the bedpost on Sirius’s side, the animal’s head lifted high and proud.

“But is Remus’s side a werewolf, then?” Elodie asked in a hushed voice. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what she knew he hated most about himself carved like a piece of fine art into wood as if it were a point of pride. Sirius just smiled enigmatically, and, huffing in annoyance at him, Elodie turned to look at the bedpost closest to her head.

It was much more simple than the other three, with the most prominent element being the night sky above an empty grassy space. The moon hung nearly full over that space, and a thought occurred to her. She’d figured out, in the time she’d spent at St. Mungo’s waiting to be released, that the full moon had been mere days ago. It would have looked about the same last night as it did on the bedpost, and Elodie lifted her hand to trace the cloud that was carved as though it was drifting between the far-away treeline and the moon.

“Does… does it change?” Elodie asked, haltingly. It seemed like a ridiculous question no matter which universe the context for the answer came from. Either it was a silly thing to ask because a bedpost doesn’t alter its appearance based on moon phases, or it was a silly question to ask because magic made changes like that somewhat mundane, if impressive. 

Elodie tried to think of what asking something like that would be like at a Malfoy garden party.

‘Well, of  _ course _ it’s enchanted, Sapphira,  _ dear. _ We’re not  _ Mudbloods!’ _

Sirius’s voice focused her attention back on the here and now. “Mmm hmm. Remus hasn’t come in to see, though. He helped me get the materials, but I put it all together myself. He, well…”

Sirius hardly ever faltered in telling her about what he’d done, even--and perhaps especially--when it was something he perhaps shouldn’t have done. Elodie rolled back over again to look at him.

“I used your camera,” was all he said, though.

Elodie took in the slightly stubborn, somewhat sheepish look on Sirius’s face, the confession of using her camera, and the blank, unused space on the bedpost. There was grass beneath, the moon above, and just enough space for a carving there.

“You’ve almost got it,” Sirius whispered.

“It’s too much like a story in a book!” Elodie objected. When Sirius chuckled and held up a finger, she reached out and flattened his hand against his side. “No, it really is! You’re implying that you, what? Took a picture of Remus with or without his permission, then gave it to the wood carver, who then enchanted a bedpost to show his carving only one night a month?”

Sirius leaned over and said quietly into her ear, “I told the guy in an owl message that his favorite time of the month was the full moon.”

Elodie scrambled out of the bed, her eyes wide, hands on her hips.  _ “Sirius Orion Black!” _

Sirius was unrepentant, however. “Next you’ll be telling me the ends don’t justify the means,” he said with dark humor, scooting up to rest his shoulders on the headboard. When Elodie just raised her eyebrows (again trying to raise just the one, and failing. She was  _ really _ going to have to look for a spell to teach her how to elegantly raise just one eyebrow, she decided) at him, he frowned, and added, “Don’t think I don’t get why you’re angry. The craftsman will probably never see Remus again, and someday when Moony sees this--” he rested a hand on the bedpost “--he’ll know that somewhere in the world is a version of Remus John Lupin as a human being on the full moon!”

This just brought up a horrible thought. “Do… do portraits change into images of werewolves on the full moon?” she whispered, a hand over her mouth.

“Shit. I don’t know,” Sirius said, rolling out of bed and walking over to his side of the wardrobe. “Wouldn’t that be mad--Patriarch of the house gets his portrait done, thing turns rabid in the middle of the night, and  _ that’s _ how the family secret gets out?”

Elodie fought the urge to crack a smile. She could see both sides of the bedpost issue, and she knew Sirius was trying to distract her away from the negative, privacy-violating, secrecy is bad among friends aspect. Remus Lupin would likely be horrified to know that Sirius had secreted an image of him onto the Marauder Bed, as Elodie was now calling it in her head. Private, gentle person that he was, his first thought would probably not be ‘wow, there’s a human version of me out there in the world at all times, even during the full moon,’ which is what Elodie liked about the bed.

Well, two people could play the distraction game.

“Sirius?” Elodie asked, walking over to where he was dressing himself.

“Hmm?”

“Any particular reason why the Remus post is up by my head?”

To her complete surprise, Sirius turned around in the middle of putting on a black t-shirt and started tickling her, ultimately chasing her into the middle of the bed and continuing his attack until the two of them were collapsed into an exhausted pile of giggles. He then explained that the diagram had gotten mis-approved with the Sirius and Remus bedposts swapped, and it would have required confessing the changes to Remus to fix. Sirius hadn’t been thrilled to have the Remus bedpost right beside where Elodie usually slept, but had made his peace with it eventually.

“I can swap sides once a month, if it’s that important to you?” Elodie offered.

“Nah. When you’re on that side your back’s to the post when you snog me,” was Sirius’s completely outrageous (and clearly jealous) response.

Elodie totally won the resulting tickle fight. 

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Twenty minutes later, Elodie came barrelling out of the master bedroom, casting spells behind her to lock, ward, and hex the door behind her. She wasn’t  _ actually _ upset at Sirius, but his behavior that morning was like a distillation of all of the hours she’d missed spending with him, and he deserved a good hour of extricating himself from the bedroom, in her humble opinion.

Remus was already awake, of course, and he came over to stand beside her as she looked at the door with her arms crossed, feeling an only vaguely guilty sense of satisfaction.

“I feel like a Muggle would come over and say something like, ‘Is the honeymoon over,’” Remus said, nudging her with an elbow.

“Hah!” Elodie shook her head. “One doesn’t get a honeymoon with Sirius Black. One gets a deceptive period of ordinariness followed by a whallop in the face of ‘what, you didn’t see this coming?’”

Remus laughed. “I definitely missed you. You two are good though, right?”

“Yep. I wasn’t able to put him in his place verbally while I was ‘out,’ so I had to pack it all in at once, I guess.”

“Albus gave me a letter for you, said you’re to read it before you look at any news or whatnot,” Remus said, handing her a scroll. Elodie hesitated a few seconds before taking it, and Remus added, “Nothing too terrible, just-- you should read it. You’ll understand better.”

After she saw some of the names listed in the letter, Elodie walked over while reading the first paragraph and sat on the couch.

 

_ Elodie, _

_ Your attacker having been Bartemius Crouch, Sr. is worrisome. The man had been seen only sporadically, performing his duties via owl post messenger to his subordinates along with brief, confused personal visits which had all ceased by the time of the Second Task.  _

_ Just a few weeks ago, Crouch Sr. stumbled onto Hogwarts’ grounds extremely dishevelled and confused, asking to speak to me. Harry and Viktor Krum came across him and brought him to my office where I was having staff meeting. As soon as the man saw Professor Moody, he gasped in horror and fell down dead of a heart spasm. Madame Pomfrey was unable to revive him, and his post-death examination revealed long-term Imperius damage. There was also a great many body tissue injuries that Professor Snape was able to review. He believes that the man may have been kept captive not only by the use of Imperius, but also under Polyjuice potion. _

_ Moody, Snape, and I were obliged to feign confusion as to why the man had received such a shock, since Minister Fudge has decreed absolute secrecy on the matter of his son, as you know. _

_ I consulted with the Auror assigned to the case and we agreed that it was most likely that the elder Crouch had been confined via Imperius. Unfortunately, whoever it was has expertly covered his tracks, using multiple birds and obscuring spells that have kept the investigators from discovering their identity or location. I believe that, at least initially, his captor was his own son, with some overlap during the young man’s time impersonating Alastor. _

_ I fear that the Ministry has overlooked both the ease of Polyjuice usage for disguises and the mental deterioration that can result from long-term use. The physical affect of the man reminded Severus greatly of the behavior Bartemius Crouch, Jr. exhibited during his attack on yourself and Harry. With the above events in mind, I would like to meet with you as soon as you feel able. _

 

Elodie saw that the rest of the letter was a short few lines about hoping she was settling back in nicely, a greeting for her housemates, and Albus’s signature at the bottom. She stared at the paragraph about Crouch’s death, feeling an odd sense of something being incomplete.

She could still hear the frantic tone in the man’s voice as he shouted at her about his son. His fear of Moody  _ could _ be related to the man’s role as magical law enforcement, especially given his son’s crimes. That’s not how it had read to the others in the room, though, and the mention of Polyjuice damage made her wonder if there was something even  _ more _ sinister about her attack.

Had it even been Crouch Senior at all?

Elodie leapt to her feet and went over to the low tray by the door where she kept her shoes. She started to put her slip-on sneakers without sitting down, and nearly fell over sideways with the effort of standing on one leg and jamming her foot into the thing. Luckily, Remus had seen the slow-rolling disaster happening, and had positioned himself to catch her elbow at the exact right moment.

“Shit, thanks Remus,” Elodie said, allowing him to guide her to a solo, uncomfortable-looking chair that now sat by the window. She really wanted to thank him for always seeming to be there when she needed him, but something Sirius had said the night before made her hold her tongue. He’d said that Remus had been quite upset about her attack, and had confessed to feeling in some way responsible for not noticing that she wasn’t visible at the shoreline for some time before she was discovered. Elodie thought that was ridiculous; she remembered what it was like that day (and not just because it felt like less than a week ago). Because of the terrain and plant life, it was difficult to see any of her fellow Order members once they were a good fifteen to twenty feet away.

She didn’t have time to worry about all of that, though. The sense of urgency that she’d started to feel on reading the letter surged back through her, and she popped up out of the chair suddenly enough that Remus leaned over and held his arms out to catch her again if need be.

“Don’t worry, the only place I’ll be throwing myself right now is into a Floo. I need to talk to Albus,” she said.

“Mind if I come with? I had to miss a lot of the event deconstruction thanks to work responsibilities,” he said, running a hand through his hair distractedly and shooting a longing look at his shoes.

“That’s fine,” Elodie said, hating the fact that there were stressors she had to avoid with him. If she didn’t have larger worries, she’d sit him down and go into exactly why he was still every bit the brilliant best friend she always saw him as.

_ Best friend! _ Elodie exclaimed to herself. It was at once the exact right and exact  _ wrong _ title for Remus, depending on which part of her was asked. Was Sirius best friend material? 

“Nope, nope, nope, no time, go away thoughts, bite me, complex emotional bullshit!” Elodie chanted under her breath as she marched over to the fireplace.

Behind her, Remus cleared his throat meaningfully.

“It turns out being unknowingly unconscious for months on end and waking up to a renovated house and people that missed me is a bit stressy?” Elodie said, turning around to favor Remus with a brilliant (and deliberately ditzy) smile.

He narrowed his eyes at her for a second before smiling gently. “Rain check, as the Muggles say?”

“Rain check,” Elodie nodded.


End file.
